


The Academy of War

by Hades_the_Blingking



Series: The Angel Academy Saga [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mating, Angel Singing, Angel University AU, BAMF Castiel, Blindfolds, Bottom Dean, Bullying, Cas and Dean are kinda both dominant tbh, Gabriel what are you up to, Handcuffs, Hot angel sex, Humour, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pool Sex, Slow Burn, Top Cas, Wing Kink, Wingfic, all the extremely cliche wingfic tropes, alternative universe, angel au, extreme BAMF Castiel, extremely unashamed wingkink, grace fucking, im going to hell for that tag, im going to hell for this entire fic its a sin, mild violence, past John Winchester douchbaggery, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6264817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hades_the_Blingking/pseuds/Hades_the_Blingking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Angel University AU</strong><br/>Dean is the typical dick angel at the top of the pecking order at the Academy of War; nobody disrespects him and gets away with it. Then there's an announcement that the Academy will be hosting a special guest. Little does Dean realizes what this means for where he stands or just how quickly his life is about to be spun around. Nor does he understand this strange kind of sickness that gripped his Grace with a sudden fever.</p><p>Will Dean realize the error of his ways and be raised from his own brutish habits, or will the shift in power be the end of him? Either way, not him nor Sam, nor even wise angel Bobbicus could have guessed his fate.<br/>Comments are much appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Wings

“Today we’re going to learn about the major – and I mean major in a broad encompassing term – styles of angel combat.” Hannah, Dean’s War Theory tutor conjured three names into the air: Raphael, Gabriel and Castiel as the other students emblazoned everything Hannah said into their eternal, photographic memories. Ugh, Dean really didn’t see the point of War Theory. He’d been at the Academy of Holy War for years now and theory had never come in handy. Sure, maybe for the nerds. Dean turned about in his seat and some dweeb called Coledai met his eye. The smaller angel looked down again as his creamy ochre wings fluttered with nerves; he knew that eye contact with Dean meant a bruising after class.  
“Raphael’s style of fighting is simple but effective.” Hannah continued. Today the prim and proper angel looked male, but tomorrow they might be female, and some days it was impossible to tell. Most angels were gender neutral, but some, like Dean, had a particular preference. “We’ll call it Strength and Intimidation. Raphael is very powerful and often can simply resolve disputes by making a display of strength to scare his opposition into submission. On occasions where this fails, Raphael’s fighting technique comes down to brute strength in a head-on attack.”  
  
Well that sounded familiar. Dean smirked and shuffled his dappled brown wings; he’d scared the crap outta many a challenger with his huge span. In fact he just loved it when some punk came up all brazen and brash, then found themselves in the massive shadow of their feathery, impending doom.  
“Gabriel, on the other hand, uses Illusions and Deception to defeat his enemies, as he is by job description, a herald, not a warrior. Or was – nobody has seen him for millions of years, however we have personal accounts of those who fought beside him in the First Holy War.”  
“Deception and illusions are for babies.” Josephus snickered on Dean’s left, and Dean gave a huff of agreement. Those sort of angels needed to be taught the lesson that they belonged at Nerd School next door (The Academy of Lore), instead of cluttering up the space of better angels. Yeah, Dean’s brother Sam went to the Lore Academy, and if anyone gave him a hard time, Dean would punch their Grace out their eyeballs. Sam was family. That was different.  
  
“And thirdly, we have the fighting style of Castiel.” Hannah made the name glow brighter, but it didn’t make Dean care more. “He didn’t climb the ranks by just shaking hands. We call his style Speed and Brutality; one of the hardest forms to learn, but extremely effective and dangerous to against any angel or demon. His speciality is tracking and killing Fallen Angels that might join Lucifer, giving him the epithet Scourge of the Fallen.”  
“Why don’t you include Michael?” Some preppy angel up the front asked and Dean felt his attention doing a sly climb out the window.  
“Good point! But the truth is, asking you to compare yourself with either Michael or Lucifer would be like asking a human to smite a demon.” Hannah conjured the names of the two most powerful archangels in existence and put them in a circle beyond the other three names. “If you ever find yourself in the unlikely situation of facing combat with Lucifer, my advice to you would be to run. Only two angels have ever survived a full-frontal assault from him. Can anyone tell me who?”  
  
Hannah paused as though she actually expected input from the class. Damn, if he wasn’t careful, his Grace was going to melt out his ears from boredom.  
“Michael is the obvious one; he and Lucifer are on equal terms of power. But Castiel also faced Lucifer and survived. No angel quite knows how, but there’s a reason he’s the Third Marshal of Heaven.” Hannah began to conjure up notes. Yeah, yeah, who cared about some frickin Third Marshal when they could be learning Raphael’s moves with Uriel?  
Dean rolled his eyes and sank back into a memory as Hannah carried on the nerdy crap.

Darkness hung in the air like a foul smell. Tell-tale vibrations gave Dean the warning he needed as a demon prowled through the alleyway. His father John hadn’t explained what the demon’s purpose was, just that if Dean didn’t smite it, he wouldn’t be allowed back into Heaven. At the angel equivalent of ten years old, there was nothing more Dean wanted to do than obliterate his first demon. Just the sight of its twisted mug of sin and evil made his Grace itch to end it. He slid out an angel blade that was about half his own height and crept towards the creature of Hell. This was it. Dean’s still-fluffy wings just about quivered with exhilaration as he gauged the pounce, crouched, jumped and –  
_Smack!_  
  
The demon slapped him into a wall with a pustule-covered black hand. It had no wings, so it couldn’t be a powerful demon; it simply had good reflexes.  
“Oh look.” That toothy, five-eyed face made a fake pout. “God sent a cherub to thwart my evil ways. How…adorable.”  
Dean gave a flap of his small wings and swooped in right behind the demon, but it was too quick; it grabbed his arm and twisted it with such force that Dean gave a cry of pain. The angel blade bounced off the tarmac like a solid moonbeam and this abomination kicked it down the alleyway.  
“I could just eat you up, little Cupid.” It hurled Dean into the concrete pavement and brought a clawed foot down on him again and again, until there was a nice Dean-shaped crater in the tarmac.  
“Why don’t you come here and try it, you pathetic son-of-a-bitch.” The child-angel glowered as blood made tracks out his nose. The demon bent down and yanked Dean up by the hair.  
“Oh I w – “  
  
Before it could even finish its sentence, Dean summoned up every ounce of energy in his Grace, every inch of holy ire and smote the demon’s forehead with a hand that glowed with white-blue flame. Light sizzled out its eyes as it screamed; the young angel had never heard a more satisfying sound. It was a shame he couldn’t save the human it had possessed, but he’d do his best to lead that soul to Heaven.  
“Dicaeomen? Is that – “ Two demons rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of their barbecued buddy.  
“Stay back, you scum.” Dean flared his very small, fluffy wings and called on the angelic fire within him again. Nothing happened.  
“Or what pipsqueak? Looks like your balls haven’t dropped far enough for you to get it up again.” The demon’s spiked face twisted with glee, but the insult went straight over Dean’s innocent little head. His angel blade was halfway down the alley, but before he could wing over there, the other demon’s tentacle snaked around his foot.  
“Hey!” He sliced downward with his wings, but the demon’s skin only hissed and smoked; full angel wings would’ve chopped it in half, but who said life was meant to be easy.  
“How about we rip off those nasty little stingers, hmm?” The first hellspawn took him by the neck and pinned him against a wall.  
“I’d like to see you try, you bastard.” Dean spat in its face and was rewarded when the thing’s skin melted. The demon growled and wrapped its talons around his wing-joint. The thing’s tentacle friend clubbed Dean across the jaw again and again until the world was a bruised blur. Nobody except Dad knew he was down here and John might submit Dean to the humiliation of being saved, but he’d never hear the last of it. Sam could barely even fly, let alone take on two demons. For the first time in his life Dean looked up to the Heavens, looked up to his home and cried to whoever was listening for help. The world sparked. He could feel his Grace about to tear and drip out of him. Then, just as the alley faded, a light so bright Dean could barely look at it filled his vision. When he closed his eyes, the only thing he could see were two savage black wings stark on the back of his retinas.  
  
Dad had always said he’d been the one to pull Dean out, that he’d heard him call and come to his rescue. In fact, he’d never let Dean forget it. But…Dean had spent many hours just revisiting those wings, and he knew deep down somewhere that they weren’t his father’s. John had mottled grey wings, kinda like Sammy’s, and even if they had been silhouetted – 

  
“Decanos?” Hannah stood in front of him, arms crossed. The rest of the class had turned to look at him too, but they all found the floor very interesting when he turned to challenge their gaze.  
“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” Dean flashed his best smile. He hadn’t tried to lose himself so thoroughly in that memory.  
“I see.” Hannah raised an eyebrow filled with an extreme amount of disinterest in him or his dashing smile. “I said, what’s so special about Castiel that sets him apart from the other two?”  
Dean searched through his vast memory, but couldn’t recall anything. The names of every prophet on earth kept popping up for some reason, but that didn’t help.  
“Uhhh, has he got a rainbow halo?” Dean gave a cocky little smirk, and Josephus and the gang sniggered next to him. Hannah just gave a sigh and turned back to the floating notes.  
“He’s not an archangel. He rose from where we are today, and it would do you all good to look to him as an inspiration. Class dismissed.”  
Finally. Dean’s knuckles ached to show that little punk Coledai what it meant to try and stare him down around here. Hey, he was the ruler of this roost and he couldn’t let impertinence like that slide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought, so by all means hit up that comment section or leave some kudos if ya like it so far :) I find the image of baby Sam trying to fly with fluffy lil wings so adorable hehehe. Fun Fact: Decanos is the archaic Greek ancestor of the name Dean lol c:


	2. The Good Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angels, such as Herias (who you'll meet) don't have genders, so I just refer to them as 'they\them' for want of a better expression.

“Uriel, my main angel, how’re you doing?” Dean clapped his combat instructor on the arm.  
“Dean. Always good to see you raring to go.” Uriel gave him a typical, slow smile. “Heard you and Coledai got into some trouble yesterday.”  
“You know me, always getting into trouble.” Dean raised his eyebrows with what he’d like to think was an adorable grin.  
“And let’s keep it that way.” Uriel nodded and they shared a look of understanding. “We wouldn’t want anyone but the best on the front line.”  
A chorus of rowdy yells told Dean his gang were in the training complex. The place itself was Dean’s dream; every day Uriel summoned new environments and enemies for them to traverse and butcher. But the angelic cage fights, in the ring, one-on-one? He could do that all day.  
“All right, gather round everyone.” Uriel soared up onto a raised dais with chocolate brown wings. “What you’re up against today is a surprise, but the ultimate goal? Smite what needs to be smited, save what needs to be saved. You’ll be ranked on your performance. Based on your technique, you’ll be sorted into combat groups, paired off and duel to get us today’s combat champion!”  
  
Dean and his crew grinned as the other angels groaned; hey, if they wanted to beat him, the combat champion for years now, they could either get good or get out. The stone floor and clean metallic structure of the complex dissolved, and Dean found himself on dark steps that descended down into a maw of darkness. An angel blade lay on a stone table in the stairwell; to prevent less-than-healthy hostile activity towards each other, the Academy of Holy War didn’t allow their student to carry proper angel blades, but Dean always had a large knife smelted from the same material strapped to his calf. If his dad had taught him anything, it was to be prepared. And hell had dad prepared him and Sammy. Yeah, Sam decided to become a brainbox, but that kid would’ve still been able to take down half the punks in his class, no contest. It wasn’t a surprise, really, that Dean had creamed the top dogs in the first week and asserted his authority as the baddest angel on this block.  
Dean slid his fingers around the cool, silver metal. This looked like a Salvation Run. Time to gank some demons and bust the innocent outta Hell.

  
Dean held the punk who thought it might be his lucky day in a neck-break hold and waited for him – Benny, he thought his name was – to flatten his metallic wings in submission. The warrior angel had taken down everyone willing to fight him in the ring (he went easy on his buddies cause he knew they’d let him win). It’d been like tipping dominoes; that easy.  
“C’mon sweetheart, don’t make me make you.” Dean tightened his grip and twisted ever so slightly to right. Benny gave a grunt of frustration and dropped his wings till they swept the floor. “Now that’s a good boy.”  
“And the combat champion of the day is Dean! Nothing out of the ordinary there.” Uriel shot him a pleased smile as Benny limped out of the arena. If he turned about and tried to challenge Dean with a glower, he’d get his ass handed to him on a plate after class. Lucky for him, Benny seemed to know his place. They all did. Just how Dean liked it.  
  
_This is an announcement for all angels at the Academy of Holy War._ The voice of their Managing Angel, Naomi, buzzed through on open-broadcast angel radio. _Tomorrow we shall be receiving a guest of great importance. All students of the Academy will gather in the open courtyard at 11.00am Earth Time._  
“Who d’you think it is?” Herias, one of Dean’s gang, practically bounced with excitement. “Do you think it’ll be an archangel?”  
“I hope not. Dean wrinkled his nose. “They’d probably just give us some holier-than-thou speech and expect us all to bow and grovel just to get looked at.”  
He’d never seen an archangel in person, but they sounded annoying; what with their hundred heralds, their power complex now that great granddaddy G-man had left the building and the rods up their asses.  
“You can’t say that, Dean!” Herias whispered in a hushed voice as if the angel expected Michael to hurtle like a flaming comet out of the sky towards them.  
“Oh lighten up, would ya?” Dean flicked his friend on the ear.  
“Yeah, Herias, who asked you?” Josephus crossed his arms and Herias flinched and shut their piehole.  
“It’ll probably be some corporate asshole from Health and Safety, y’know, like that Zachariah guy that came here last time.” Dean strode out into the heavenly light beyond the complex doors and his gang followed.  
“Yeah, I didn’t pay attention to a single word he said.” Josephus dusted some arena dirt off his black and white piebald wings and his buddy Xanthias snorted in agreement.  
“Right, I’m gonna go off and preen my feathers. Say hi to Hannah from me.” Dean’s crew were sometimes a little too basic for him. Yeah, they were easy to control and it was great to have the core of best fighters kissing his boots, but to hang out with? Dean very much doubted they’d appreciate his taste in Earth music, angelic pie-creation and the hours he spent in meditation trying to pick his father’s wavelengths out of the millions on heaven and Earth.  
  
His friends cleared out the way as Dean spread his towering wings and whooshed into his room. Well, space. Every angel in heaven had their own little private space to inhabit. Since Dean had no rank, his wasn’t anything special; a tiny lakeside beach about 20ft long, a creation bench, and a tape player he’d picked up from Earth on the odd occasion he’d been allowed down. Both he and Sam were entitled to the space their father and mother had created before their mother had disappeared, but Dean couldn’t handle the memories there. So he was stuck with small quarters until he grew old enough to fabricate one for himself – another few hundred years, damn it. But this place wasn’t so bad. Dean stripped off his boots and shirt and plonked himself down at the edge of the water. He let out a sigh as the warm sand trickled between his toes and feathers. Sometimes he just loved to plunge a wing into the sand and let the grains tease the sensitive plumage – something a human might compare with a massage. Dean conjured himself up a beer and watched the sun dance on the face of the lake. This was much better than War Theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Building up the Cas-suspense cause I'm a meanie. The concept of God-made angels and generation angels will be explained later too c: As usual, if you liked it or got somethin' to say, I would love to know what you think! :) Than you so much to everyone who has already left kudos and comments, I didn't expect so many for just the first chapter c:


	3. This Town Ain't Big Enough

“Hey, you lookin’ for trouble pipsqueak?” Dean had been milling around in the Assembly Zone with the other students, waiting for their esteemed guest when some asshole thought it’d be ok to just jostle him out the way. He recognized those ochre wings – Coledai still hadn’t learned his manners. “Oh, look who it is. Didn’t learn your lesson last time?”  
“No – no I – “ The shorter angel yelped as he noticed just who he’d pissed off – again. Well that gave Dean the warm and fuzzies.  
“Well why don’t you beat it then?” The bigger angel twitched his wings open a fraction, and to his delight, the little guy swallowed.  
“Y-yeah, alright.” Coledai turned, but Dean hooked a foot around his ankles and sent him smack bang onto his face.  
“What’s your name, hot stuff? Walking Disaster?” Dean sniggered and Josephus and the gang picked up on what was going down. They formed a casual circle around the pretentious little pipsqueak.  
“It’s Coledai, and I didn’t mean it!” The smaller angel flattened his tan wings in submission but didn’t lower his gaze. Bad move.  
“Who said you even got the right to look at me, tiny?” Dean grabbed the insolent little cherub by the front of the collar and hauled him up off the ground. “How about I teach you a lesson on manners right here and now?”  
  
Coledai tried to flap out of Dean’s grasp, but only earned a bout of laughter from Josephus and Xanthia.  
“Leave him alone.” A deep, calm voice grated from behind Dean. Who the Hell dared…? The warrior angel turned about and almost laughed out loud. Some little punk in a trenchcoat thought it’d be fun to get his face re-arranged, huh? What a shame – it was always the pretty ones that were jumped-up little bastards, and this one took the cake. Trenchcoat seemed to be trying to stare _him_ down. _Him._  
“Oh, you wanna take his place?” Dean raised an eyebrow, still holding Coledai a few inches off the floor. Josephus and Xanthias made an ‘oooh’ in the background. It seemed more angels had turned about to watch Trenchcoat get his ass kicked. Something did seem a familiar about the little dude, but he couldn’t for the life of him pick out what.  
“If you let him go, then yes, you fight me.” Trenchcoat’s eyes narrowed in a challenge. Oh that was priceless.  
“You? _You?_ What are you gonna do, balance my cheque book?” Dean laughed, dropped Coledai and turned to meet his new victim face on. The nerd scurried away, and Dean didn’t see the little fearful look he shot the new guy.  
“Well at least I don’t have to prey on smaller, weaker angels to prove myself. Only a coward does that.” Trenchcoat’s tone didn’t even change. Dean practically heard Josephus’ jaw hit the floor.  
“Alright, you jumped up little nerd.” Dean muttered and the now crowd of angels had to step back as he unfurled his tawny, eagle-like wings to their full extent. He watched for the black-haired angel’s face to drop in fear, but Trenchcoat didn’t even bat an eyelid. Hell, not even a single feather twitched in response; the other angel’s black wings stayed neatly tucked behind his back.  
  
Dean shot out a hand to grab those freakin nerdy coat lapels. In one fluid movement, before he could blink, Dean’s arm was twisted up behind his back, his feet were struck out from under him and he was flat on his stomach in the dirt. Everything happened so fast that by the time Dean tried to fight back, the other angel had already pinned Dean’s wings down with his knees. The grasp on his arm was rock solid, and Trenchcoat’s forearm pinned his neck in place. A wash of heat swept through Dean, and a part of his mind suddenly became very sensitive to where his adversary was arranged in the space above him. Yeah, that’s called humiliation, Dean. He swallowed and tried to move, but doing so would tear his wing muscle and pop his arm out of place.  
“My name is Castiel.” Trenchcoat raised his voice to a volume that would have destroyed buildings on earth so that all the other angels could hear him. Oh shit. “While I am here, bullying and discrimination will not be tolerated. Do you understand me?”  
  
Dean heard a murmur of agreement, and the pressure on his neck, wings and arm vanished.  
“Would you… like to have another go at that?” Castiel’s condescending encouragement hit a nerve, and the way those big blue eyes met his with some sort of mock concern just made him want to punch the black-winged angel’s lights out. Well, he couldn’t possibly get into worse trouble, so Dean held that gaze and clambered to his feet.  
“Yeah, why not?”  
“Dean – “ Herias’s eyes were full of fear, and the angel didn’t even dare look at Castiel.  
“Shut your mouth.” Dean growled and rolled his shoulders. This time he wouldn’t be caught off-guard by a deceptive trenchcoat. Marshal of Heaven or not, if it bled, you could kill it – or take him down, in this case. Besides, Dean couldn’t back down now – pretty much the entire Academy had watched his ass get kicked. He had a reputation to save.  
  
This time he dropped into a proper fighting stance and prowled to one side. Castiel matched his steps, but the Marshal of Heaven didn’t change his expression or posture. His wings stayed behind his back like sleeping vipers. Speed and Brutality, Dean thought. Well, they had that right. Maybe this fight was beyond his paygrade. Hell, he didn’t even get paid. Another wash of humiliation-fuelled heat prickled over his body as they circled. Right. Go time. In a swift move, Dean threw out his wing to the left and punched Castiel with his right fist. Or would have if the angel hadn’t blocked it and kicked Dean so hard in the stomach that he had to snap his wings into a flare to stop himself falling on his ass. With the momentum of his already-open span, his gave a flap, appeared right behind Castiel, but found his face full of black feathers. Before he could get over the shock of touching another angel’s wings, the blue-eyed soldier stomped in the back of his knees, but no way was Dean ever going to kneel before this douchebag; he tried to twist to the side, but Castiel used his own motion to flip him onto his back; a position of ultimate submission.  
  
In a move faster than mortal sight, the older angel took hold of Dean’s wrists, slammed them up above his head and straddled his chest. Dean gave a grunt of pain as he realized each of Castiel’s knees had trapped a pinion against the ground a piece, and if he moved even slightly, the motion would rip out his feathers. They would take months to grow back, and flying would be hazardous without them. Now those harsh black wings curved out like a question that was all too easy to read. Give up? Dean’s jaw worked, but never in his entire life had he felt so utterly at the mercy of another angel. There was nothing he could do; Castiel had him check and mate. He broke eye contact with the smaller angel, let his head drop back and flattened out his wings as best he could without Castiel’s knees ripping out his primaries. Great. Just great. He’d just been shown as weak in front of an entire school of warrior angels and Heaven’s greatest douchebag, Castiel, just climbed up off his like they’d been discussing the weather or something!  
“No angel here should shame this student for yielding to me.” Castiel looked about the crowd, calm to the point of unnerving. Damn, Dean should have recognized a First Generation Angel on sight. The Academy was mainly comprised of Second Generation Angels from after the First Holy War, and now that the Second Holy War had just ended, there were more Third Generation Angels like Dean and Sammy. The staff were First Generation (even that kooky janitor that left behind more candy wrappers than he cleaned up), so it wasn’t as though didn’t he know what one looked like.  
“If any of you think you can do better than him, then step forward and prove yourself right now.” Castiel’s piercing blue eyes swept across the assembly, but no-one dared move; they’d seen their best get his ass handed to him in five seconds flat.  
  
“That’s settled then.” Castiel’s ferocious black wings whipped the air and he soared up to a point where everyone could see him. Dean climbed to his feet and scowled up at the Scourge of the Fallen. “Michael has commanded that I oversee the training of our new warriors. I will introduce new training regimes, tests, subjects and provide some of the tuition myself. The safety of Heaven and Earth lies with us, especially with you; the sword of our holy retribution. Yes, Lucifer is caged once more, and I saw him fall into Hell myself. Yet he escaped once, and may do so again; nefarious are his ways. In that time of need, that desperate hour, Heaven shall look to you to bring the wrath of God down upon sin and evil. And you _will_ be ready.”  
Pretty words for such an asshole. Dean brushed the courtyard’s dirt off his shirt. Nobody made him look weak, not even Castiel. And he had a plan to teach the jacked-up accountant a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean needs to chill. Thanks to everyone for leaving kudos and comments so far, you're all awesome! :D Why not let me know what you thought of this chapter too - I love hearing from you guys n.n


	4. I Fell Into A Burning Ring of Fire

It’d taken hours of waiting just for Bobbicus to go down to Earth on a special whisky run. Luckily just a week or two ago, Dean had noticed that Bobbicus was running short on the Earth-made booze he loved so much – that angel spent half the time tipsy; he had to with the amount he consumed. In the ten seconds Bobbicus was gone, Dean popped into his underground chambers, ‘borrowed’ what he needed and reappeared in the school basement. A lone candy wrapper on the old concrete told Dean that the janitor had already swept through here, so there’d be no disturbing them. He hoped to almighty great-granddaddy that this would work and searched for Castiel’s frequency in the school. As soon as he found it and ensured it wasn’t with the vibrations of any other angel, Dean sent a critical emergency distress call down the line. He knew this call was only meant for if he was dying, or had run into a Knight of Hell or even Lucifer himself, but it was the only call he knew Castiel would deem important enough to even consider answering. There was a whoosh of wings and Dean conjured a flame. Before Castiel could even look around the basement, he was encircled with Holy Fire.  
  
“Decanos. What is the meaning of this?” Those electric eyes locked on him, but the shorter angel didn’t raise his voice or summon his holy wrath. He just watched and waited, and that was the one thing about Castiel that threw Dean. There were no brazen words, no wing displays, no thunder and lightning. Just those silent eyes.  
“The name’s Dean, asshat, and since you’re the one in solitary right now, I’ll be doing the talking.” He paced around the ring of flames, emboldened by his own tough-talk. “You see, we got a system around here. I decide who doesn’t look strong enough to make the cut and me and my band weed them out. Pretty straight forward. So here’s there deal. You look the other way when I do my thing and I won’t leave you to rot in a basement.”  
“Did you really believe this plan would work, Dean.” The angel’s tone was deadpan and his face a mask; there was no way of knowing what Castiel thought.  
“You’re the one in the holy fire, not me.” Dean gave a cocky little smile, but Castiel didn’t react.  
“Do you really believe that I could go missing without notice. That someone – even the janitor – would not find me eventually?” Castiel’s gravelly voice echoed through the dim room, and Dean felt that heat trickle over him again. Was it humiliation? No, dad had taught him how to trap an angel. Dean had it covered.  
“When I leave, I’ll ward the room. See I know a trick or two as well. No-one gets in, no-one gets out.” Dean smirked. Check, you son-of-a-bitch.  
“If I wanted to escape your holy fire, I would simply carve a banishing sigil onto my body and banish myself.” Castiel sighed as though he had better things to do with his day. But his answer threw Dean for a loop.  
“Only an insane angel would do that. You wouldn’t survive!” Dean had never been banished, but Bobbicus told him it was one of the top ten most unpleasant angel experiences.  
“I’ve survived it before and took five fallen angels with me, Dean.” Well, Castiel was insane then. What the actual heck. “Now listen. If you do not let me out of this holy fire, when I escape I shall ensure that you are expelled and disgraced. However, If you let me go right now, I will not see you expelled; in fact I wish to give you private tuition.”  
  
“Private tuition? Are you nuts? I just trapped you in holy fire!” Dean looked the other angel up and down with confusion. “Why the hell would you do that?”  
“Don’t you see it, Dean.” Castiel paced as close as he could get to Dean and those blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “You are a ram among the sheep. Let me guess, that was the first time you have been beaten in a fight for a very long time.”  
“Yeah…but that’s because I’m a better fighter than everyone else!” Dean’s wings puffed out in indignation.  
“Have you improved since you claimed the title of the best?” Castiel cocked his head and Dean found himself held in place by those blue eyes. It took a moment for him to realize Castiel was waiting for an answer.  
“Uh, well…” Now that he thought about it…he had learned a few things, but was still at the same level he had been when he arrived here; better than the rest, but not improved.  
“Some angels are bred to be rank and file angels: soldiers we can throw on the front line when a major Hellgate opens or something of the like.” Castiel didn’t seem to notice Dean’s lapse in attention, and Dean couldn’t get his head around it. Usually it was boredom that made him lapse, but he…didn’t feel bored. “In the Second Holy War, we lost a lot of rank and file angels – the building blocks of the army, as it were. This Academy is engineered to train up angels with a closed mind set to rebuild the lesser troops. Uriel especially likes to train up warriors who will never be stronger than he is, which is good for angels made for the cause of sacrifice, but not for angels like you.”  
“And what am I?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the other angel, but Castiel didn’t seem to catch his scornful tone. Uriel would never do that. Not to him. But then again…  
  
Castiel was right. He hadn’t improved, and Uriel would be able to take him down if he’d wanted to.  
“Don’t you wonder why the other angels at the War Academy respect you and flock to you, Dean?” Castiel queried, and Dean wondered how much research the Third Marshal of Heaven had done on him while he’d been on a holy oil mission.  
“I thought it was because of my sparkling personality.” Dean overcame his internal struggles and shot his captive a little grin.  
“You, and I’m betting your brother Samuel, are both born and bred leaders.” The shorter angel grated. “I knew it the moment you stood up, knowing who I was, and still wanted to prove yourself. Your classmates did not even dare look at me, yet you fought me twice.”  
“So what if I do go to your little…karate training bootcamp, hmm?” Dean knew whichever way this went, he was screwed. So making a deal with the Marshal of Heaven had to be the way to go.  
“You must never bully the weak again.” Castiel’s eyes were hard set.  
“Bully? I’m not a bully, I – “  
“How would you like it if I found you every single day, hurt you, taunted you and drove you to the point of such fear and shame that you did not wish to return to this place ever again, that you did not wish to do what you once enjoyed?” Castiel’s words stole his voice, now that he’d been refreshed on humiliation tasted like.  
  
No, that…that wasn’t… Was…was that what he did? He never really remembered when he’d gone from taking his anger over being abandoned and hurt to his core out on Seminar Foes to other angels. Uriel had taken him in, had fed him on glory and pride and the righteous mission of the greater good of Heaven. Wasn’t it right that he should strengthen the ranks by whittling off those who didn’t fit the mould? Or was he just so caught up in validation and the desire to be wanted, needed, that he’d been blinkered to what he’d become? Dean was not good with feelings. It was as though he were waking up from the ease of a comfortable fantasy and parts of him just wanted to stay there, ignorant to the words of the other angel. He dropped his gaze to the floor.  
“I don’t…..”  
“Take my offer Dean.” Castiel was right at the edge of the flames, and Dean hadn’t realized that he was too. How had he not noticed himself walk over here? “And let me go.”  
“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll stop creaming nerds and you’ll tutor me? ” Dean looked back up to the older angel with more bravado than he felt and he shoved everything he didn’t want to face to the back of his consciousness.  
“Deal.” Castiel tilted his jaw, and a tingle ran through Dean’s wings. He chalked it down to a random sensation, although the impression that this felt more like a conversation with a demon than an angel was definitely not a coincidence. Maybe Castiel wasn’t so much of a douche after all, but dangerous? Yes. Even in the holy fire, he’d tipped the power back into his own hands, and that kind of manipulation wasn’t something Dean had expected from an angel who commanded troops. Politicians, maybe. Then again, he was looking at the third in line to the throne of Heaven, unless Gabriel sprang back up again. Wow, now that he put it like that, maybe he should have been more afraid of Castiel.  
Dean conjured a bucket of water and tossed it onto the fire.  
  
As soon as he did so, he knew he’d made a mistake. Those cruel black wings flew open in rage, not massive and imposing like Dean’s, but tapered and sleek like a razor-sharp knife. If the younger angel hadn’t been so startled, he might have realized he’d seen that shape before.  
“Hey – “ Dean raised an arm to defend himself, but Castiel snatched it out of the air, spun him around and thrust him hard against the wall. He would have tried to buffet the other angel off him with his wings, but froze as the cold point of an angel blade dug into his throat. For the first time in years, fear shot through his being. Maybe Castiel would kill him, and maybe he deserved it.  
“If you _ever_ trap me in holy fire again, I will rip off your wings and cast down you to Earth myself.” Castiel snarled, and Dean was dizzy and panting even though he’d been in worse scenarios. “Do you understand me?”  
“Yes.” Dean breathed, but his mind had suddenly switched from ‘nearly being killed oh no’ to the sensation of Castiel pinning him to the wall. He’d been pinned to a wall before. What was so special?  
_“Do you understand me?”_ The tip the angel blade drew blood, and Dean gasped as his grace shone out the wound.  
“Yes, damnit, I understand!” Dean barked, and the sword left his neck.  
“Good.” Castiel stowed the angel blade back into his trenchcoat, but when Dean turned to look at him, his eyes still simmered with rage. “Then meet me in the West Wing of the Training Complex, Chamber 1CA tomorrow at 3pm Earth Time.”  
And with that Castiel vanished.  
  
“Hey, are you two done in there?” The janitor, a very short angel with brown hair and a cheeky look about him, poked his head around the corner with a wink. “I think I missed a spot.”  
“Uhh…yeah, yeah, we’re…we’re done.” Dean took a breath as he looked at the blood on his fingers. It’d been a long time since he’d seen that, but maybe this was for the better. Castiel made him feel like a child; young, immature, small and petulant. Was he being childish? Was he blinded and taken in by Uriel? Or was Castiel, Mr Righteous Accountant, in the wrong here? Dean picked up the holy oil and set a course for Bobbicus’ space. He needed an honest opinion about himself, and if Bobbicus was anything, he was blunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we get to hear from Castiel! :D I'm sorry not sorry for calling Bobby Bobbicus. I legit call him that while watching the show anyway because ily Bobbicus. I'm not sure what Gabriel is up to, but then again who ever knows what Gabriel is up to. Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos! I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter, so drop a comment if you like ^.^


	5. Revelations

Castiel slumped into a chair in the work space the Academy had so graciously given him. Oh no. Oh noo. He drew a holy hand across his face and gave a long sigh. He’d heard about this. But really? Now, after billions of years, it had to happen now? Dean was… a problem. But, he hated to admit to himself, a very attractive problem. Another wash of that dreaded heat danced through Castiel’s Grace as he thought of those long eyelashes, speckled green eyes and soft, tawny wings. Why couldn’t he just be one of those angels who never went through this? Angels weren’t wired to mate very often, if at all. Only after the First Holy War, when the angel population had been almost halved, did the first few discover that they were actually able to reproduce – yes, that had been a shock. Castiel remembered they had believed it to be some sort of sickness at first, until the first baby angel arrived, and quite suddenly too; angel reproduction wasn’t as complicated or painstaking as that of Earth creatures. To the extent of his knowledge, the process was fairly simple: if a pair of angels were taken by the instinct, they mated and decided whether or not they wished to have offspring (how the first couples knew they had a choice, Castiel had to put down to an innate notion) unless the angel population was critical, and then offspring was guaranteed. Then part of their Grace fused on a subatomic level to create another set of angel Grace, thus another angel. But most angels viewed mating as an unnecessary complication, undignified and even irritating when their co-workers suddenly started acting odd. Some angels even found the thought of being so ‘debased’ downright abhorrent. Very little study had actually been put into the mechanics of it once the holy host figured out it wasn’t a disease, and Castiel had never seen or heard a first-hand account of what the process was actually like to experience.  
  
“Heat. A lot of heat.” Castiel muttered and massaged his temples. The heat wasn’t unpleasant, but… distracting? If it got worse, it would be. Would it become painful if he didn’t pursue Dean? Castiel had to credit the other angel; he had nerve, trapping him in holy fire. True, the Marshal of Heaven had no idea whether banishing himself within holy fire would actually work, but you didn’t get anywhere in angel politics without lies and deceit. He knew he’d been a bit lax to fall for Dean’s trap like that, but it was the second time in his millions of years that he’d heard that call, and it had torn through his Grace as powerfully as it had the first time; the older angel had always wondered why that cry had been so strong. Now he knew. Dean must have been too young at the time for this process to start, but now…  
  
Castiel sighed and flicked through his mental notes until he found the Academy schedule. Yes, he could freely admit Dean was a bully and a thug, but whether he was a product of his surroundings or simply had a spiteful temperament, Castiel had yet to know for sure. He hadn’t looked too pleased with himself back in the basement, and he had agreed to be tutored in exchange for the termination of his violent behaviour toward others…  
Come on Castiel, get with it! He gave himself a mental pinch as the image of Dean’s broad shoulders covered his notes for a moment. Great first day Castiel: You beat up a student twice, got lured into a holy fire trap and your essence decided it wanted to reproduce with the worst possible candidate. He sighed as someone knocked on the office door.  
For all he was worth, he wished there was a cure.

***  
“Hello?” Dean poked his head around the doorway to Bobbicus’ lounge.  
“Dean. Been on a date with my holy oil, I see.” The plaid clad, bearded angel harrumphed.  
“Just couldn’t help myself.” Dean gave a guilty little grin. No, Bobbicus wasn’t an angel that would suplex his ass, but that sly dog had tricks up his sleeve that even Dean didn’t want to be subjected to.  
“Oh, hey Dean.” Sam called out from the window seat, where him and some nerdy kid were trying to make a book fortress out of the wizened angel’s collection. “Long time no see! And what _are_ you doing with Bobbicus’ holy oil?”  
Dean fixed Sam’s bookworm buddy with a death stare. “Beat it, short stop, I got family business to talk about.”  
“Dean!” Sam protested, but the other angel just closed his book with a nervous glance the older brother. “Kevin, you don’t have to – “  
“Don’t worry, I can come round another day… or - or call me when it’s a good time.” This Kevin guy gave Bobbicus a nod and with a patter of deep purple wings, he vanished.  
“Dean!” Sam threw his hands up and seemed to look to Bobbicus for help. “Seriously, dude, what is up with you?”  
“How about I tell you about my day and then you tell me.” Dean tucked the holy oil in a corner and prepared himself to try and express emotions. 

“You did _what?_ ” Both Sam and Bobbicus blurted out.  
“Yeah, I trapped his ass in holy oil. But then he offered to give me one-on-one tutorials and I figured I’d benefit more from that than leaving him to rot, huh?” Dean admired their shocked expressions as he told his very, very well edited story.  
“You trapped _Castiel_ in holy fire?” Sam ran his hand through that flowing mane. Seriously, they weren’t in biblical times anymore, Sammy.  
“Yeah? And?” Dean shrugged.  
“And you’re lucky he didn’t shiv your ass the moment you let him loose, ya idjit!” Bobbicus poured himself another glass of whisky. “That angel has a reputation fifty miles across! Angels, demons, the damn Devil for the love of Pete…you name it, he’s fought it, and you think that a school kid like you could get the drop on him?”  
“Sometimes I just can’t believe I’m related to you.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose betwixt his fingers. “You’re a moron, you know that?”  
“Yeah, and apparently I’m a bully and a thug too.” Dean shuffled his wings with discomfort and studied Bobbicus’ carpet, but if he was waiting for one of them to jump to his defence, he’d have to wait a long time. “Am I?”  
“Yeah. Yeah you are!” Sam just had to sugar-coat everything. Bobbicus just nodded in the background. “Half the angels in my lectures won’t take the shortcut between the Training Complex and the back of the Artefact Museum without me because they don’t want to run into you and your thugs!”  
“What? How? How am I a bully?” Dean grumped and threw up his hands. The worst part is that deep down – ok maybe not that deep down at all – he knew they were right. Castiel, Sam, Bobby…they all knew. They knew he’d somehow turned out wrong. The worst part, that sickened him to his stomach, was that he knew he’d turned out wrong too.  
“Well the way you threw around your weight with Kevin for one.” Sam gestured at the Kevin-less space beside the window.  
  
  
Dean peered into the amber liquid. The Academy of War had Enochian binding in its contract; any angels in combat training couldn’t go to Earth unsupervised or access certain parts of Heaven. That and the age restrictions didn’t allow Dean to go hardly anywhere, so he had to either power his way through and earn a rank that’d allow him special access or drop out of the Academy and wait a few hundred years to track his dad. Since Bobbicus kept an ear out for the old man and since dad had probably warded himself against everyone including The Almighty, Dean had decided to stay on. But then he’d tried to prove himself, gone too far, got involved with Uriel and Josephus who had…all but _brainwashed_ him, looking back... Dean just about kicked himself for being so stupid. He should have seen them as A-Grade assholes from the get go. His usually-proud mottled wings drooped. How had he let himself join the dickhead ranks?  
  
“You’re right. You’re both right, and I’ve been too much of an arrogant douchebag to pull my head outta my ass.” He took a swallow of whisky and couldn’t bring himself to look at the pair of them. Instead, he took a seat on one of Bobbicus’ old stools. “I’m a douchebag. A first class, A-grade, crème de la crème douchebag.”  
Castiel was right too. He was a bully, a coward and had enjoyed being the king of his own little domain so much that he’d squandered himself.  
“Take Castiel’s classes, Dean.” Sam’s eyes were full of sympathy, and for once Dean was glad he didn’t have to worry about whether someone was a threat or a challenge or deserved to be taught a lesson. It was childish. “He’s been at the Academy one day and already you’re already better than you have been in years.”  
“And he’ll teach you a thing or two, that’s for sure.” Bobbicus nodded and Dean shook his head with a smile.  
“I…I lied about that story with Castiel. He almost did shiv my ass the moment I let him go. In fact, I should’ve been expelled for being such an idiot.” Dean held his glass up to be refilled, and it felt good to drop the puffing and preening act. That’s all it had been. Even though it’d gone on for years…that’s not who he was, so why kid himself anymore? Other people shouldn’t suffer because of his own messed up head.  
“Well, it looks like he’s giving you a chance Dean. And this is Castiel we’re talking about.” Sam smiled; Dean’s so-called friends never smiled with such warmth. How had he not noticed he’d surrounded himself with asshats? “A chance from Castiel could set you up for life.”  
“Yeah, well, I don’t deserve it.” Dean rubbed his forehead with one hand and fingered his glass in the other as a pit of self-hatred welled in his stomach.  
  
“Listen up, idjit, whether you deserve it or not, you got it.” Bobbicus pointed at him and raised those grey eyebrows. “So you buck up and use it to make amends, or so help me, I’ll kick your ass.”  
“Thanks Bobby. You always know what to say.” Dean swallowed another shot of whisky. “Hey Sam, call Kevin back.”  
“What?” Sam looked at him like he’d just sprouted antlers.  
“Call Kevin back. I want to apologize.” He sighed. May as well start making amends now.  
“This I have to see.” Bobbicus took a seat while a bemused Sam tuned into Kevin's wavelength.  
  
After a moment, two wingbeats heralded the other angel’s arrival.  
“Uuh, hey.” Kevin looked from Sam, to Bobbicus and kinda glanced at Dean.  
“Hey Kevin.” Dean rested his elbows on his thighs and looked up at the academic angel. “I am really sorry about how rude I was to you earlier. Feel free to stick around and continue your book…thing with Sam.”  
“Is this a joke?” Kevin eyeballed Sam, who gave a tiny shake of his head. “This has to be a joke.”  
“No joke.” Dean smiled and it almost felt as though a weight were lifted off his chest that he hadn’t noticed existed. “Go on, pull up a book.”  
The petite, black-haired angel sat down on the window seat as though it were made of rice paper. “That is Dean, right?”  
“Yeah. I think.” Sam nodded, his glorious locks bouncing with angelic hair products.  
“Hey Bobby, can I crash here until next Academy shift?” Dean felt the old self he thought he’d lost when dad had vanished come bubbling up within him. The one that wasn’t a douchebag, the one that didn’t need to punch something to feel validated. “And does anyone want pie? Cause I do.”  
Sam, Bobby and Kevin all exchanged terrified yet pleased looks as Dean strode off into the kitchen whistling some weird Earth song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's some backstory and a nice little bit from Castiel :) Hope you all enjoyed it! As usual, I'd love to hear what you think and kudos is always appreciated too n.n Thank you so much to everyone who has already commented and kudos-ed! Love you guys c: Apologies for mistakes, it's very late rn.


	6. The Turning Tide

“Castiel?” Dean poked his head around the door of Chamber 1CA. Like the other rooms, it was little more than a chrome box ready to be subjected to a simulation. What Castiel would conjure up for him, Dean couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t gone to any of classes today; he’d needed a little bit of time to find himself again, and chilling out with Sam, Bobbicus and even Kevin with beers and Bobbicus’ HD reminiscent stories had been the first real fun he’d had in ages.  
“Hello Dean.” Even though Dean was early, the older angel had been waiting for him. The stark light in the room gave his face an edge of deceptive beauty that Dean hadn’t noticed in other angels. In any case, he strode toward where his tutor stood. “I’m glad you decided to show up.”  
“Yeah, well…” Dean looked away from Castiel’s sapphire gaze as warmth prickled through his cheeks and neck. What was this feeling? Was he ill? “I figured you were right. Before I came to the Academy I wouldn’t have done any of those things. In fact past me probably woulda kicked my ass on principle.”  
  
Castiel shifted so close to Dean that there was barely a foot between them. With other angels, they could be nose to nose and Dean wouldn’t have batted an eye. But even though Castiel wasn’t touching him, his chest, shoulders, the parts of him Castiel was opposite to tingled and the sensation spiralled down his legs.  
“Take this.” The Marshal of Heaven handed him a long, steel knife. Dean’s eyes lingered, for some reason, on the other angel’s lips before meeting his gaze again. “They are standard human weapons, so the risk of injury is very unlikely.”  
Even though they were only steel, Dean took it with apprehension. He’d learned the hard way not to underestimate Castiel and wouldn’t put it past the black-winged angel to have some tricks with human weapons up his sleeve.  
“Now you will attack me.” Castiel took a step back, and Dean realized he’d been holding his breath. True, angels didn’t need to breathe so it was more of a habit or a comfort thing than a necessity, but usually he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Dean roped in his weird reactions and focussed on the task at hand. In all honesty, he had no idea how to defeat Castiel without going full coward again and breaking out the holy oil. But if Dean was anything, he was stubborn, and part of him was still too proud to ask the other angel for pointers. He just had to be prepared for how damn fast Castiel moved.  
  
Well, he had to start somewhere, so Dean arched his wings up over them and slashed the blade out in one fluid move. Castiel parried, as Dean was prepared for, but then the smaller angel did something that almost certainly would have got Dean disciplinary action if he’d done it in class. Castiel ducked under his outstretched wing, slid his hand right to near the base of the appendage and clenched his fingers into the tiny, sensitive feathers on the underside of the wing. Dean gave a yell of pain as Castiel gave a firm yet light tug upwards and the younger angel dropped to his knees.  
“Let go, let go – ahh! Stop, please Cas!!” It felt as though the other angel was about to rip his wing off. It stung, smarted through his essence like acid on a human’s skin and a deeper pain pooled somewhere in his Grace. Dean gave a groan of relief as Cas released him.  
“That was …you’re…touching other angel’s wings…it’s just wrong!” Dean finished as he took his tutor’s proffered arm and climbed back to his feet. “Or playing fair – it’s against the combat code!”  
“Out there, playing fair will get you killed.” Cas’ fingers lingered on his arm for a moment, but neither his hard-set eyes or blank face matched the action, so Dean thought nothing of it. “If you want to be the best of the best and stand among the ranks of the archangels, then you play by every trick in the book. Your weakness is your basic attack methods and the way you expose your wings to your opponent.”  
Cas paced around him. “Intimidation may be a viable strategy to you, but keep displays and fighting separate. Do not give your opponent access to your wings, especially as yours are still young.”  
“What’s that got to do with it?” Dean could feel the other angel’s eyes on his feathers as Cas scrutinized him. Then his tutor stepped back into his line of vision and unfurled one coarse black wing.  
  
Dean hadn’t had time before to take a good look, and now he spoiled himself. It wasn’t a thing of dainty beauty, that was for sure. The feathers were scarred and pockmarked in places, even on the sensitive underside. They sang of death, fear and sorrow – not only the physical elements, but the aura they gave off too. It was like looking at a wickedly-sharp ancient sword whose notched blade had absorbed the lifeblood of its foes. Dean swallowed in awe, but a shock of some sort of pleasurable sensation lanced down his spine. He bit his lip in confusion. Maybe he should ask Bobbicus what sort of angel-fevers existed.  
“Touch the exterior feathers.” Cas nodded towards the back of his wing. This was taboo. Angels weren’t supposed to do this; even parents didn’t touch their children’s wings if they could help it. Cas seemed to notice Dean’s apprehension. “I am completely fine with it, but if you are not – “  
“No, no, I’m good.” Dean raised a hand and ran his fingers over the inky feathers as a throb pulsed through his being. Ignore it, Dean. Whatever was going on with him right now wasn’t going to interfere with these lessons. Cas’s wing felt like tempered steel beneath his fingers; hard, impenetrable and cold.  
“How…?” Dean’s own wings were soft on the outside, a little tougher than the underside but not like steel.  
“When your wings are distressed enough over battles, when they have taken damage and learn to expect more, they form an energy field of protection.” Cas flicked his wing, and the primary feather beneath Dean’s finger took on a softer texture again. “Turning it on and off becomes innate after a while. We’ll work on forming your energy barrier in the next less – “  
  
Cas’ deep voice hitched as the tip of Dean’s finger slid by accident onto the underside of the primary feather and the wing snapped closed.  
“Apologies, that was instinctive.” Cas didn’t look at Dean for a moment, and the light caught his clean-cut jawline. After a few seconds Dean realized he was staring and that there was a silence that needed to be filled. Little did he know that the only thing keeping Castiel’s white-hot desire from showing was a couple of million years’ experience at keeping his cool and a natural-born pokerface.  
“No, I really shouldn’t have, uh, done that.” Another rush swept over the younger angel and he felt struck dumb and motionless by something he pinned down to nerves. Yeah, of course he was nervous because he wasn’t blinkered by a mask of idiocy anymore.  
“Your combat style is very similar to Raphael in some respects.” Cas ploughed on as if nothing had happened. “You put on a good show of strength, but your moves are somewhat predictable – as to be expected of Academy training.”  
He flipped the human knife about in one hand. “Allow me to remedy that.”

  
***  


Three hours later, Dean ached where he didn’t think it was possible to ache, burned in a way he couldn’t blame on pain, but somehow couldn’t be happier. Cas was a little holier-than-thou sometimes, but Dean could listen to that gravelly voice instruct him on the art of war until the second coming of Christ. Not to mention the intense blue of those eyes, or the even more intense stare they fixed upon him. Even as Dean strode around the side of the Training Complex, Cas’s striking features swam to the fore of his mind without his permission. Before he tried to confront why his thoughts seemed to have thoughts of their own, a crow of laughter hauled him back to the real world.  
“So you thought you’d just be _allowed_ to step on our territory without some sort of consequence?” Josephus, Xanthia and Herias had cornered an auburn-haired angel. Her russet wings shifted behind her as she took in the three warriors.  
“Y’know, you’re right. I think I’ll just…leave.” She backed up, but Xanthia just appeared behind her and gripped her shoulder. “Come on guys, I’m not doing anything wrong here!”  
“Hey!” Dean called out and marched toward the four of them. The auburn-haired angel’s eyes widened in fear and Josephus grinned.  
“Oh hey Dean! Come and join the party! We thought Castiel had scared you off.” The arrogant prick smirked. How had they ever been friends?  
“You’re gonna let her go Josephus.” Dean growled and raised his wings in a warning. He wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving them open if the other angel decided to pick a fight with him though.  
“Excuse me?” Josephus choked out a laugh of disbelief and raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with you? Nerds like this need to be taught a lesson!”  
“No they don’t. She has as much right to be here as we do.” Dean gave his former friend a death glare and sized them up. Herias wouldn’t be a problem; they were already backing off. But Xanthia and Josephus stood their ground.  
“Yeah…you better listen to him!” The auburn-winged angel looked between them all with wide eyes. “Look, he’s all big and…everything.”  
“Shut it, toothpick.” Xanthia growled and shook her as Josephus directed a sneer at Dean.  
“What, are you afraid of Castiel, huh? Did big scary Dean get his wings clipped by a politician?” Josephus turned about and raised his piebald wings to match Dean’s challenge. Was this what Dean had looked like to the others at the Academy? Yes, Dean. The fact that he’d thought trapping Castiel in Holy Fire would work was testimony enough.  
“Castiel was right about me and he’s right about this too. It needs to stop. Now.”  
“You know I’ve fought you a million times, right, in the combat ring? I know all your tricks.” Josephus puffed out his wings with pride. “You’re all bark, no bite.”  
  
Speed and brutality, Dean thought. Pride and arrogance was a weakness, and Cas had told him not an hour ago that if an opponent was caught up talking about their achievements or the failures of others, not to let them finish (unless you wished to buy time). Be rude and attack them mid-monologue. Playing by the rules was too predictable.  
“So me and Xanthia here will – “  
Dean snapped his wings shut, ducked under the black-haired angel’s wing, sank his nails into that awful spot Cas had shown him and tore upwards. Josephus screamed and hit the deck. Xanthia pounced on his back and tried to wrap an arm around Dean’s neck for a break hold, but Dean smashed his head upwards into the other angel’s nose. He grabbed the thug’s arm, tucked his ass into the pivot point on the other angel’s hip and threw them over his shoulder. Josephus still retched in the dust, and Dean didn’t give Xanthia the chance to get up. He stamped on the angel’s holy version of a solar plexus and when they gagged and curled up into a ball, he caught the wing trying to defend its owner and twisted it upwards so the joint was in the verge of popping out.  
  
“Pick up Josephus and get the hell outta here.” Dean growled as the other angel whimpered. Herias had vanished. “I won’t mess with you unless you make me stand in the place of those not strong enough to fight back. You make your peace with them, I make my peace with you, we’re all happy little ducks, ok?”  
“Yeah, fine.” Xanthia spat. Dean was tempted to do a Cas and pull a knife on his ass to drive his point home, but everyone knew that would’ve been an empty threat; the Third Marshal of Heaven might be able to get away with righteous murder, but Dean couldn’t just go around stabbing angels. He let the bully go and turned back to the female angel as Xanthia flapped out of their space with Josephus.  
  
“Go Dean!” The ginger angel punched him in the arm with a wide grin. Her auburn wings fluttered with excitement and glee. “You showed ‘em!”  
“What’s your name?” Dean smiled at the cheery aura around this angel. She seemed like someone he’d pick over Josephus and Xanthia any day.  
“Charlie! I’ve met your brother Sam over at Lore, but he always says to steer clear of you.” Charlie gave a nervous laugh, but didn’t scarper. A sick vice gripped his gut as he realized that Sam’s friends were amongst his previous victims, and the fact that even Sam being upset hadn’t been able to straighten him out was just shameful.  
“Yeah…that’s reasonable I guess.” He gave a wan smile and ducked his head. “I’m proud to admit I’ve abandoned the douchebag wagon for once and for all. What are you doing in the War Academy anyhow?”  
“Well I thought maybe a self-defence course would come in handy, but it turns out I need self-defence to get to the self-defence course…” Charlie gave another laugh as she set off at a brisk walk toward the Training Complex. Almost being pulverised by Heaven’s assholes-in-training hadn’t even taken the spring out of her step. “And I busted a wing in a coding accident, so I could exactly pop in and out.”  
She lifted an auburn wing which all but glowed with colour, and revealed a precise, square hole in her feathers.  
“ _Coding_ did that?” Dean raised incredulous eyebrows.  
“Yeah…Heaven and angels are a very technical system. Like, with special technique and instruments you could basically hack an angel, but that’s illegal, not to mention kinda torture.” Charlie shot him a quick glance. “Not that I, y’know, torture angels no, no, this wing thing was me trying to find a code that might repair damaged Grace rather than relying on archangels. Didn’t quite go to plan.”  
“Well yeah, I can see that!” Dean laughed and took another glance at the clean-punched square hole. “That’s pretty badass though. You can do that?”  
Charlie all but beamed. “That and a hundred different other things! Soon we’ll be learning how to program personal Heavens, but my speciality is security. Prisons, vaults – even The Cage could technically be hacked by an angel with enough expertise! Not that anyone would want to though.”  
  
She shrugged, and Dean couldn’t help but think that this was the most natural conversation he’d had with a student yet, although he’d been at the Academy for years. Seriously Dean, what were you thinking?  
“I mean, I don’t mean to overshoot myself, but my tutor said I am really talented in Security Coding, like super advanced First Generation Angel level stuff. But Naomi won’t let me progress until I’ve got the other fields sorted, but that’s life I suppose.” Charlie sighed and looked up at Dean, a little playful smile on her face.  
“Y’know, I could teach you some self defense moves if that'll help?” He just wanted an excuse to see Charlie some more; he needed a few more bubbly auras in his life.  
“Like that one you pulled on that jerk Josephus?? Hell yeah!” Charlie grinned and practically lit up the open vestibulum of the Training Complex they’d just entered. “But I shouldn’t disappoint Leiel today, y’know. But next time!”  
“Ok.” Dean clapped her on the arm. “You got my frequency in case you get into trouble again though? Drop me a line and I’ll wing my ass over.”  
Charlie closed her eyes for a moment, and Dean felt a little tug in his being.  
“Got it.” She beamed. “See ya round, Dean, and thanks!”  
Dean found himself in a hug, and it had been so long since someone had tried to embrace him that he almost went into shock. By the time he remembered hugging back was a thing, she let go.  
“Yeah, maybe we can work on that.” The auburn-winged angel laughed, gave a little wave and headed off towards her class.  
  
Dean watched her go with a smile. One day out of douchebag camp and he’d already made a friend, learned some sweet new moves and saved someone from Josephus and his buddies. Maybe staying on at the Academy wouldn’t be so terrible. For some reason the sight of Cas’s feathers beneath his fingers pushed to the fore of Dean’s thoughts, along with the older angel’s hitch of breath when he’d accidentally touched the underside of his wing. The strange desire to touch Cas again, to brush his lips or stroke that clean-shaven jaw bubbled up inside him.  
“Seriously Dean, are you crazy?” He muttered to himself and set off back to his own space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we see more from Castiel's POV n.n Thank you all so much for all the comments and kudos, and I'd love to hear what you though of this chapter! c:


	7. Hark the Herald Angels Sing

Castiel arrived at his first lecture five minutes early and totally invisible. The students chatted away, seated on tiered, backless benches. He found it educational to view the other angels without the variable of his presence. Castiel could already ascertain the different social type of angels, simply from their natural behaviour. At the front sat a mixture of excited, enthusiastic friend groups, dotted with the odd quiet learner and a few spaces left by those who felt too intimidated to sit near to front. At the back of the hall sat the less social angels and the more troublesome ones; loud and crude with their limbs purposefully taking up more space than they needed. Castiel nodded to himself as he walked past them; these angels would be perfect to throw on the front line as fodder. To his disappointment, Dean’s tawny wings weren’t among the array set out before him from the view at the back of the hall. Yesterday…he’d never felt such electric pleasure, even though Dean’s finger had only brushed the underside of his feather for a second. Offering Dean his wing had been dangerous in itself, but some part of him craved the other angel’s touch to the point of frustration. A tingle of heat flushed through his face and neck and coiled down to his stomach as he remembered the way Dean had bitten his full bottom lip as he examined Castiel’s feathers. No Castiel, you have a class to teach. There is no room for such distractions. Perhaps Dean’s absence had an upside.  
  
“Hey, if it isn’t Castiel’s bitch-boy!” A black-haired angel jeered across the aisle Castiel stood in. Dean had appeared in one of the seats beside a grim angel with metallic wings. His rugged jaw clenched, but to the older angel’s relief, Dean just ignored them.  
“What, did he bite out your tongue too?” This was someone the older angel recognized; he’d been with Dean the day of Castiel’s arrival. “Are you gonna go crying to mommy and daddy again because the big mean angel kicked your ass? Oh no wait, I forgot your mommy and daddy ditched you too.”  
“You shut your mouth, Josephus.” Dean’s eagle wings stiffened, and part of Castiel just yearned to smooth a hand over those tense, muscular shoulders. The Third Marshal of Heaven filed the name ‘Josephus’ for future reference in case they ever needed an expendable angel.  
“Oh, you’re gonna make me? You and what army, tough guy?” The angel puffed out his piebald wings, and Castiel observed a group of ten or more eyeing Dean with reproach. “Your nerd groupies?”  
  
Castiel could tell that if the pair had been alone right now, Dean’s glare alone would have scared Josephus off. But the other angel had numbers at his back, and Dean knew as well as Castiel did that this wasn’t a fight the younger angel could win. The green-eyed angel turned back to the front of the hall, but didn’t show any sign of submission towards Josephus’ threats.  
“Oh, and this is for yesterday.” Josephus snaked out an arm and ripped out one of Dean’s outer feathers. Dean gave a grunt of pain and all but hauled Josephus across the aisle by his shirt front. The gang of angels behind Josephus tensed their wings, and Castiel decided he’d seen enough.  
“Dean. Josephus. Follow me.” He materialized and fixed them both with a hard stare. Dean dropped Josephus with a glare of defiance at Castiel, and the look on the black-haired angel’s face was that of priceless horror. His friends all suddenly found the ground more interesting.  
“With all due respect sir, Dean weren’t in the wrong there.” The grim, short-haired angel beside Dean spoke up, but his wings shuffled with nerves when Castiel turned his gaze on him. It seemed right now, Dean needed all the friends he could get, and this angel had just declared his loyalty in front of Josephus and his gang.  
“You will follow me too.” Castiel kept his resting pokerface, just to rattle their nerves, and realized the rest of the hall had gone silent. “Now.”  
  
He breezed down the stairs and pointed to two spare seats in the second row and an empty seat on the opposite side at the front. “You two sit there, Josephus at the front there. I will see all of you after class.”  
He turned his hard gaze on the rest of the angels. “I see that you are afraid of me. That is natural, but do not let it interfere with your learning. If you have a question or wish for further explanation, do not hesitate to raise your voice. However, if you are disrespectful to me or to the education of your classmates, I will deal with you myself. Understood?”  
The angels nodded or gave muted affirmations.  
“Excellent. Today I shall be teaching you how to sing.” Castiel cocked his head as one of the angels in the back row broke into a fit of laughing coughs. He noted the fleeting looks of surprise and even revulsion on the faces of some of the warriors, but he lasered in on the one who had made a noise. “This disturbs you.”  
“W-w-well, uhh…” The angel stammered, flushed and looked anywhere but Castiel.  
“Speak up, I wish to hear what you have to say.” The Marshal of Heaven knew he was being cold and brutal, but didn’t really care.  
“It – it’s just that this is, uh, War Academy n-not…choir practise.” The genderless angel cringed as if they expected Castiel to fly up there stab them. But he’d already anticipated the reaction of the more boisterous warriors from his five minutes of class study. So instead of trying to explain, he searched within himself for that serene space in his consciousness and opened the special chamber in his throat.  
  
The song itself was not complex or that powerful – a simple Song of War to kindle the righteous fire within lesser troops – but the effect was immediate. Every angel in the hall straightened and zeroed in on him like a pack of wolves might do when their leader howls. The more unintelligent ones began to unfurl their wings in response to the imaginary fight he called them to. Castiel had no clue that Dean had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself making inappropriate noises as Castiel’s deep, formidable voice washed over him in spasms that made his wings spark.  
Then Castiel slowed the melody down to a smooth Lay of Peace and the hall of angels relaxed again; with the dynamics in this group, he didn’t want to leave them in a state of aggression. As his song came to an end, silence filled the hall again.  
“That was _incredible!_ ” A female angel in the front row exclaimed and the other angels murmured in agreement. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I have to learn that!”  
  
Castiel gave a small smile of satisfaction. “Those were two basic military songs, which we don’t often use as their power is not great. If you think back on how what I sang to you made you feel, you can imagine how powerful Michael’s Call to War was at the beginning of the Holy Wars. It burned in your Grace like a holy fire and every angel felt as though they could plunder Hell single-handedly.”  
He didn’t share darker side to that sword though; hundreds of thousands of lesser angels threw themselves into the fray without a single thought of consequence, so driven had they been. True, in the frenzy of inspiration they’d smashed through the lines of Hell, giving an opening to the commanders and archangels, but the death toll of those victories had been too many to count.  
“But we cannot sing such songs, and it would be deadly to try.” Castiel peered about the hall. “Every angel has their own unique voice, although it may be difficult to find if you are a young Third Generation angel. I will try my best to aide you, however. You all have your own personal song. Every angel’s is different, but that will be your most powerful.”  
Castiel let his eyes linger on Dean for a moment. He yearned to hear Dean’s voice and his song, but today they probably wouldn’t come anywhere close to finding it; first was meditation to find the serene part of their essence, and that could take weeks, months, even years to achieve depending on the angel.

  
***  


The class filed out, all a-buzz with excited chatter. Some of the braver angels chorused a ‘thank you’ or a little appreciative nod, which Castiel returned. After all, he might be seeing them under his command in a couple of hundred years. Then he turned back to the three remaining students. Even Josephus hadn’t been stupid enough to try and disappear out of this one.  
“You three, come here now.” He stood with his hands behind his back, face a cold mask. Josephus shot Dean a petulant look, but joined them in the teacher’s space in front of the pews. “Explain.”  
“Explain what?” Josephus eyeballed the ground. “He moulted a feather and tried to use it as an excuse to assault me!”  
Would Heaven ever stop testing him with idiots? Castiel drew himself up and began to open his wings with a cold slowness.  
“Do you really think you can lie to me, juvenile?” He growled and Josephus gave an audible whimper. “You will report to Naomi for disciplinary action or I will punish you myself. And believe me, you don’t want that.”  
  
The piebald angel didn’t need telling twice; Castiel gave a twitch of his half-open wings and Josephus vanished.  
“Cas – “ Dean started but Castiel cut him off with a flick of his hand and turned to the other angel.  
“What is your name?”  
“They call me Benny.” The unshaven angel drawled.  
“You are a friend of Dean’s?” Castiel noted that Benny didn’t meet his eye either.  
“Yeah, why not? He looks like he could do with a few now he ain’t with them.” Benny nodded towards where Josephus had disappeared and shuffled his metal-coloured wings.  
“I’m glad. If they pick a fight with you, do not hesitate to call me. You may go.” Castiel knew that the matter of pride would probably get in the way, but Benny looked intelligent enough to know when to call for help.  
“Oh, uh, thanks Benny.” Dean called after his friend.  
“Don’t sweat it, partner.” Benny gave a wave and disappeared around the door. Castiel fixed Dean with his intense gaze and drank in the other angel’s striking green eyes.  
  
“Dean I must apologize.”  
“Apologize for what?” Dean’s eyes faltered and seemed to linger on Castiel’s lips instead. The older angel had a sudden urge to slam Dean against the nearby wall and kiss him senseless. But he didn’t want to add sexually traumatizing the students to his list of achievements, so he ignored the thrum in his wings.  
“I believe it is my fault that you are now a victim.” Castiel shifted closer to the tawny angel, till he could taste his earthy, rugged scent. This was a mistake, Castiel thought, as the organs angels had once deemed to be useless hardened at the thought of sex with Dean. He wanted to run his hand over the younger angel’s neck, tangle his fingers in those soft brown feathers, strip off his clothes and make Dean wild with ecstasy. He was no way an expert on sex, but he’d tortured enough fallen angels to know all the sweet spots and couldn’t wait to see how they’d provide pleasure instead of pain. Yes, this heat, this fire had certainly roared out of control, and Castiel had no way of reigning it in.  
“It’s not your fault Cas.” Dean sighed, unaware of just how downright horny the Marshal of Heaven was for him right now. “I had it coming, y’know. All those people I hurt, all that suffering I caused…I can take it. I can take it better than their usual victims, so this is my penance.”  
  
Maybe Dean wasn’t so much of a lost cause after all. Castiel groaned inwardly at the fact that Dean’s honesty and acceptance of his wrong-doings just made him even more attractive.  
“Let me help you, at least.” Castiel couldn’t help it – he wanted to touch Dean so much that if he didn’t he thought he might go mad. So he placed his hand over Dean’s upper arm, and noted how the younger angel jolted at his touch. It only then occurred to him that it was quite possible Dean was going through the exact same sensations.  
“No, Cas. This is my problem and getting you involved will just make things worse.” Dean’s voice stayed steady, but his wings shifted in a way that didn’t promote nerves or discomfort, but something new. Whatever it was, Castiel found it positively delicious. “You’re already doing enough by teaching me how to fight. I’m not going to training sessions anymore; I figured they don’t challenge me anyway.”  
“Then meet me at 3pm Earth Time again today, same place as before.” Castiel realized his hand was still on Dean’s arm and shifted it away. “As discussed previously, we will be strengthening your wings.”  
That is, if he had enough self-control to stop himself from just stroking those silky feathers until the younger angel was in a shuddering, sobbing heap on the floor, Castiel thought as he flew out of the hall and had to circle for a moment to remember where he was going. If these instincts got any worse, he wouldn’t be able to be in a room with Dean, let alone a one-on-one tuition session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I've always liked the idea of angel songs c: I'd love to know what you thought, of course, so leave a comment if you like, and kudos is always welcome n.n Thank you so much to everyone who has already done so, it is very much appreciated! Also, check out my Castiel t-shirt and merch [ here!](http://www.redbubble.com/people/dur-baneth/works/20997347-weeping-angel-castiel) c:


	8. Fever

Dean’s whole being throbbed with what he tried to chalk down to anticipation as he appeared outside Chamber 1CA. The sickness or whatever it was wasn’t going away, but grew in strength every time he saw the black-winged angel.  
“Come in, Dean.” See, there it went again; at the sight of the shorter guy in a trenchcoat, his wings tingled with delicate sparks that made his back shiver. He felt frustrated about something too. Like he wanted something with an aching need, but couldn’t quite pin down what it was.  
“So, uh, what’s the deal this time?” Dean shifted his wings to ease the electric sensation and strode towards his tutor. Cas’s eyes seemed to snap up to his wing-movement and back down again so fast that it could have been Dean’s imagination. The older angel then pulled an angel blade from the inner pocket of his trenchcoat, face as expressionless as always.  
“You are going to need to either lie, sit or kneel for this.” The gravel in the older angel’s voice almost made Dean kneel on the spot.  
“Whoa, whoa wait, what are you gonna do with that?” He pointed at the weapon in Cas’s hands.  
“This is blunt.” The black-winged angel held it out for Dean to check, and sure enough, the edge was dull. “It will test your wings, but not cut them.”  
“A-Alright.” Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about an angel blade in the hands of Castiel being used on his wings, but then again, he trusted Cas. He lowered himself onto his knees and let his wings spread out to a height that Cas would find easy to reach. “That ok?”  
  
Dean looked up at the older angel, but Cas’s eyes were fixed on his dappled brown as feathers though he were hypnotized.  
“Yes.” Cas’s hushed, distracted voice sent another shiver through Dean, and it he had to focus every inch of his essence to keep his wings from shaking. “This may hurt.”  
Dean braced himself for a blow, but it never came. Instead, the dull blade went tap tap tap against his feathers. The metal ridge pushed up against the grain of them, and the weight of the blows slowly got heavier. Dean’s hands clenched on his knees as the spot almost became too painful, and then his eyes flew wide open as Cas’s fingers caressed his feathers back down into place again. A shot of pleasure wracked down his spine and this time he did shake.  
“Apologies, was that too painful?” That deep voice didn’t help his situation.  
“No, no, I’m good.” Dean managed out, and practically clawed his nails into his thighs.  
  
Again the blade went tap tap tap against another patch of smaller feathers higher up, but it wasn’t that part Dean dreaded. The outside of his wings weren’t meant to be _this_ sensitive! Maybe he really was ill! Again, Cas’s fingers smoothed the feathers back down and Dean swallowed a gasp. A coil of pleasure pooled through his stomach, and Dean got the fright of his life when a part of his body he’d never really discovered the use of thickened, elongated and grew stiff. What the hell. What the actual hell. This couldn’t be normal. Dean exhaled through his nose as his mind scrambled through _anything_ this could be, any explanation at all…As Cas tapped and smoothed another patch of feathers, Dean had to bite down on his hand to stop a moan. The hard cock in his pants throbbed and heat shivered through his whole body. He'd never felt a sensation like it and he couldn't decide if it was good or bad or...or...  
“Cas, Cas…” He panted, and the tapping came to a merciful stop. “I think I…I need to go.”  
He folded his wings and stood, still out of breath. Cas peered at him with those electric blue eyes full of concern. Dean’s confusion just added to his panic; he wanted to offer himself to the older angel in some way, find a way of satisfying this heat, this hardness with him, but every suggestion his mind came up with was something Castiel would probably smite him for.  
“I – I think I’m sick or something. I need to go.”  
“Dean w – “  
But Dean had already vanished.

“Bobbicus! You here?” He yelled to the empty living room and tried to shake the sensation of Cas’s fingers off his wings. “Sam! Bobbicus!”  
Dean stomped upstairs, but there was nothing but empty rooms.  
“What the hell are you gone doin’ shaking up the place like that, Dean?” Bobbicus yelled as Dean thundered back down the stairs. Both the bearded angel and Sam were wearing gloves and goggles, while Bobbicus had a pair of white-hot tongs in his hands. “We coulda blown this place sky high!”  
“I think I’m sick. Like – like, I have some sort of…angelic fever.” Dean blurted out and raised his eyebrows at the safety equipment. “What the hell were you doing?”  
“Never you mind.” Bobbicus growled and the tongs vanished. He pulled off the goggles and Sam followed his lead. “But you’re a what-now?”  
“I – I – I don’t know exactly.” Dean stammered. The tight, urgent stiffness in his pants still hadn’t gone away. Maybe it was permanent. “It’s really hot, all of me gets really hot and I can’t control it. It doesn’t…well, it isn’t _bad_ per se, just… I don’t know.”  
“Hot.” Bobbicus raised an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, and my wings are really sensitive, like _really_. And now…” He gestured to the bulge in his crotch. “I didn’t even think this _did_ anything!”  
  
Sam’s eyebrows jumped like a frog on steroids, but even the brainbox looked confused.  
“Oh great.” Bobbicus sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘You all better come into the living room.”  
“Wait, you know what this is?” Dean jumped the last stairs and hurried after them.  
“I wish I didn’t, but I do.” The tough angel sat down in his usual chair and the boys took the couch. Dean jumped about a foot when Sam reached over and, without any shame at all, squeezed his crotch.  
“Wow. Weird.” The tall angel frowned and probably would have felt around more if Dean hadn’t slapped him away.  
“What the hell dude! Don’t frickin touch me there!” He yelped and threw his brother a flustered look. It felt about as right as if Sam had reached over and stroked his wings.  
“What? I was curious, ok?” Sam shrugged and looked toward Bobbicus, who was watching them with a look of eternal patience.  
“You wanna know what it is now, or should I go on a tea break?” The grey-haired angel griped.  
“Yeah, I wanna know!” Dean shot Sam another wary look and covered his groin.  
“You’re Grace is tellin’ you you’re ready to mate.” Bobbicus poured himself a glass of whisky because it was there. Dean just about had a hernia.  
“What??” No way. No way. That only happened to one in a thousand angels, and he’d never heard of a Third Generation angel having a kid. “No, no, that can’t be right.”  
“Well, it’s never happened to me, but your mother and father went through the exact same thing.” Bobbicus shrugged and looked back at him. Ew. Not something Dean really wanted to think about.“When did it start? I mean, you’re not alone in this. There’s some other poor bastard out there going through the exact same thing. If you know when it started at least, it’ll be easier to figure out who.”  
  
Sam conjured up a MacBook and looked at Dean in readiness.  
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean shot his brother a perplexed look, and Sam just peered up with innocent puppy-dog eyes.  
“Come on Dean, hardly anyone talks about this kind of stuff! I’m not gonna waste the opportunity of a firsthand account!” Sam tapped something out and Dean rolled his eyes. Great, just what he needed was Sammy writing a newspaper article on his horny brother.  
“Alright, well…” Dean lapsed back into his memories. It had been obvious recently, but…even further back every memory he revisited was one of Castiel. The tutorials, the basement, the first…oh. “Uh…”  
He could feel the real heat of embarrassment in his cheeks now.  
“What?” Both Bobbicus and Sam stared at him with worry. “It can’t be that bad.”  
“Unless it’s Naomi.” Sam bared his teeth in a grimace. “It’s not Naomi, is it?”  
“Of course it’s not Naomi!” Dean barked and glared at the floor. “I…I think it’s Castiel.”  
  
Bobbicus dropped his glass and Sam’s jaw hit the floor.  
“ _What?_ ” They sang a surprised angelic chorus in harmonic unison.  
“Maybe??” Dean struggled, even though it was the most obvious thing in the world right now. “When I’m around him it just gets worse until I can’t even concentrate, and when he touched my wings today – “  
“He did _what?_ ” Sam’s eyebrows were only a little way away from kissing his hairline with passion.  
“It was a training thing!” Dean growled and shuffled his feathers. The patches Cas had touched had calmed down now, and his cock began to soften too. “So what, I’m gonna have a baby with Castiel now?”  
“You’re _sure_ it’s Castiel. Not…some other angel who’s always there when Castiel is?” Sam stared at him as though he’d lost his head.  
“Yes, dammit, I’m sure!” Dean drew his hands over his face. He didn’t know how to feel about this, because although it had to be super-obvious how turned-on he was around the older angel, Cas didn’t seem at all phased by him. And if he came right out with it, or if Cas realized…some angels would cut their friends right off if they took a mate it was that…humiliating? Debasing? Corrupting? Those were all words he’d heard mating instinct described as. Even sinful and impure. Cas might cast him away and never look back.  
“And no, from what I know, you’ll only have a kid with him if you want to. Although the instinct won’t go away till you reproduce, so you could be stuck like this forever.” Bobbicus really had a way of making things better, didn’t he.  
“Anyway, describe how you feel Dean.” Sam pressed, hovering like an eager dog over his keyboard.  
“No!” Dean protested. This was weird enough as it was.  
“Please Dean, I’ll get you an Earth burger?” Damn, Sam knew his weak spots; there was a reason Bobbicus went to earth especially for whiskey. Somehow flavours from Earth were a hundred times more satisfying than angel-made stuff. The Academy of Lore didn’t have the same visiting restrictions as the Academy of War, so Sam’s offer was valid too. Dean shot his brother a look of reproach, but finally caved.  
“Alright, but burgers for a _year._ ”  
“Deal.”  
  
So Dean resigned himself to an afternoon of incredibly awkward questions. There was no way he was ever going to mention this to Cas though. If Cas really did feel the same and wanted to act on it, then…oh crap, just the thought of the black-winged angel pressing his hot, naked body against Dean’s got him hard again. That horrid frustration almost made him want to writhe around and try to claw the heat off his skin. But no way was he even gonna get short of breath with Sam right there typing down his every movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say, I'm really honoured by all the wonderful comments and kudos y'all have left so far! You guys really make my day, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this bit of madness as much as I am! ^.^ As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter too! c: Note: I kinda go with angels being able to taste food because Gabe (candy), Balthazar(booze) and Cas (burgers and booze), even creatures like Death (pizza and pickle chips) ate\drank earth stuff and enjoyed it before the 'molecule' thing (Ruby even ate chips with saltttt on them!) sooooo.... yeah. c:


	9. Tyrant

It almost took till the next Academy shift for Sam to finish is stupid interview, but Dean still reckoned he had an hour or two to relax back at his space. With one flap of his wings, he left Sam alone with his nerdiness, and the beach opened up before him. What the… The batch was all but in ruins. Lamb’s blood splashed across the sand and tainted the water. On the remaining wall of his structure, someone had painted the jagged word ‘LEAVE’ in blood.  
“Oh for…” Dean waved a hand and tried to reset it, but nothing happened. Great. Yeah, he could have probably conjured up more tapes and a cassette player, but it felt more authentic to have real Earth ones. Damnit. He’d had enough of Josephus riling him up. This time they wouldn’t get a reaction –  
  
He turned the corner around the only wall left standing and a ball of dismay rose up his throat. CHARLIE’S NEXT. The words dripped onto the ruin of his temporary home and Dean gritted his teeth. As if on cue, a tug pulled in his being.  
_Hey Dean! I’m by the Training Complex if you want to give me those self-defence lessons!_ Charlie’s bright voice chirped.  
_Charlie, get out of there NOW!_ Dean yelled and opened his wings.  
_Why –_  
Her transmission cut off and Dean gave the fastest beat of his wings in his life as he clung to her signal. He angled his wings with a split second to react, and smashed the two thugs dragging his friend with the stubby claws on the apex of his wing joint. As Charlie was in the centre, he somersaulted his body upwards so he wouldn’t slam into her and landed on his feet as the other angels looked about, dazed. They were inside the Training Arena, and Dean turned to see Josephus and around fifteen other angels sniggering on the benches. Dean thanked his lucky stars that Uriel was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know whether he’d be able to control himself around the angel that had spoken honeyed words and praises to him, had looked after him in his time of weakness, then used him like a tool.  
  
“It’s great what you can make nerds do if you hurt them enough.” Josephus sneered. “We got one of her little coding buddies to hack and freeze your space. We did the decorating though. Like it?”  
“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my damn space, you son-of-a-bitch.” Dean growled and kept Charlie behind his wings. There was a whip of air, and to Dean’s relief, Benny appeared beside him from the other side of the Arena. “You leave my friends alone or – “  
“Or what?” The black haired angel and his gang paced closer. “You’ll cry to your big buddy Castiel and get us _detention?_ ”  
“Benny, get her outta here now. She can’t fly.” Dean gave a low command. “Take her to Sam.”  
“But – “ Benny began a protest, but they didn’t have time.  
“Now, Benny!” His friend turned, and in an instant the pair was gone.  
“Oh don’t worry, we’ll find her again. And Benny. Maybe even Sam.” Josephus circled him and Dean’s lip twitched.  
“Touch Sam and I’ll skin you alive, asshole.” Even though Sam could probably suplex their asses with his angelic moose strength, even Dean didn’t like the odds of fifteen vs one.  
“Then leave. Get out of our territory and our Academy, bitch.” Josephus smirked and the other angels laughed as he got right up in Dean’s grill.  
“I think I’ll take option three.” Dean threw all the fucks he gave about his own safety to the wind and winked at the piebald angel.  
“Option – ? “  
  
Dean grabbed the other angel’s head and smashed it against his knee. Another douchebag appeared behind him, but Dean felt the breeze of their punch in just enough time to duck and elbow the brute in the ribs. As it flailed in pain, he snatched their feathers and yanked at as many as he could before another angel tackled him to the ground. A fist bruised into his face as other feet kicked in his ribs, but Dean sucked it up and took it. As another foot came towards his head, he grabbed it and twisted. It gave a satisfactory crunch, but there were more where that came from. Blunt pain thudded through his essence, but ever since that incident on Earth, to call for help wasn’t an option. They wouldn’t kill him. No, they’d beat him bloody within an inch of his life, but he’d survive, so he could take it.  
  
Suddenly, the angel on top of him lurched into the air and soared like a fat pigeon across the room. Through his bloody, blurred eyes he made out mottled grey wings and long, flowing hair.  
“Just like old times, Dean.” Sam grinned and elbowed an asshole in the face while Benny Sparta-kicked another angel away from them. Two angels appeared behind his friend and threw Benny to the ground while three more surrounded him. Dean rolled to his feet and deflected a punch as another angel tried to jump on his back. Sam threw an attacker off him, but fist to the jaw made the tall angel stagger sideways.  
“You shouldn’t be here, Sammy!” Dean growled. There were just too many, and the thugs knew Sam and Benny were his weakness. But there was one way out. He threw his wings out to dislodge his attacker and gave a flap in the direction of where Josephus lay snivelling on the floor.  
“Oi, douchebags!” He yelled and pressed his angel knife against the black-haired angel’s throat. The thugs dropped a blood-covered Benny and he crumpled to the floor, but Dean could still see his wings twitching. The assholes that had been trying to climb Sam stepped back as well, eyes hard on him. Dean knew this could get him expelled or worse, but Sam and Benny were more important.  
“Let them go, or so help me I will slice this bastard’s Grace straight out.” Dean fixed them all with a grim stare as Sam bent over Benny. His hands and eyes shone with holy light, and the other angel sat up with a groan.  
  
Then someone booted Dean so hard in the shoulder his arm went dead and the knife clattered to the floor. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, but Dean shoved backwards with all the might in his wings. It may not have worked for smaller angels, but Cas had told him that with the right application of strength, he could break the grip of most angels with a backward thrust like that from such powerful wings. As usual, Cas wasn’t wrong; his attacker was launched off him and Dean turned about…to find himself face to face with Uriel. In his brief moment of surprised hesitation, his combat tutor gripped him by the throat and lifted him into the air. Dean’s Grace burned with rage as he tried to break free and beat his teacher bloody, but Uriel held him firm like a naughty kitten.  
“I should have you expelled immediately for that stunt you just pulled.” Uriel cocked his head and dropped Dean to the floor. Neither Benny or Sam tried to protest the cause; Dean had a feeling they both knew about Uriel’s blind-eye disposition. “Unfortunately, Naomi is on a business call right now, so I guess you have one last shift to get your things together and leave.”  
  
Uriel smirked, as did Josephus now he had the obvious upper hand. Dean didn’t say a word, but held Uriel’s gaze as he climbed to his feet as he all but trembled with rage.  
“Benjamin, you will report in for disciplinary action, and Samuel I shall talk to your Head about your unsatisfactory behaviour.” Uriel gave a slow smile, but to Dean’s satisfaction, neither of them looked like they gave a shit. “Now get out of my Training Complex and don’t come back.”  
“Come on Dean, let’s go.” Sam sighed and put a hand on his shoulder before he could charge his teacher. Dean snatched up his knife, gave Uriel one last look of hatred and flew off with his brother.

“It could have been worse?” Charlie gave an apologetic smile as they sat in one of the Lore common rooms.  
“How? How could it have been worse?” Dean grumped and conjured himself a glass of whisky even though angelic-conjured food and drink never had the solid, authenticity of Earth beverages.  
“You could have died?” Charlie looked between Sam, Dean and Benny. “Thank you guys for hauling my ass outta there though. And Dean, I can fix up your space if you like – I’m the top of my class in coding and student spaces are simple to hack when you know what you’re doing…”  
“Thanks, but I’m leaving anyway.” Dean stared into his glass as some of the Lore students peered over at him and Benny with interest; warrior angels were not a common sight in the Lore Academy.  
“Dean, Uriel doesn’t have the authority to expel you.” Sam protested as Dean busied himself with the task of healing his own injuries. “Until Naomi gets back, you don’t know for sure whether you will be expelled!”  
“Sammy. They won’t stop coming after you guys until I leave.” Dean took a sip of whisky and stared the floor down.  
“Then call Castiel.” Sam tried the puppy do eyes, but Dean wasn’t in the mood.  
“No, Sam! He’s too important and has too much to do to keep an eye on the friends I should be able to protect!” Besides, after learning about this whole mating thing? Dean couldn’t trust himself around Cas anymore. He’d avoid the Marshal of Heaven until his ass got thrown out of the Academy, and this instinct, whatever it was would go away after time.  
“Dean, do you really think you leaving will help?” Sam interjected with bluntness that only he and Bobbicus could make work on Dean. “Josephus will go after us, yes. But he’s already terrorizing Lore students and War students and healing them before they can report anything to teachers. You staying gives them someone to rally behind – someone to look up to. If you leave, then he’s won and will be insufferable.”  
  
The words burned guilt straight into Dean’s gut like a mouthful of holy fire. “I couldn’t live with myself if you…any of you got hurt because of me. And I can’t always be there, and even if I was I’m not strong enough to take them all on.”  
He clamped his jaw and didn’t look his brother in the eye because he couldn’t bear the disappointment he knew he’d see there. “I gotta leave, Sammy. At least that way I can save some of you.”  
The dappled-grey angel gave a huff and shifted with frustration in his seat, but the silence remained unbroken.  
“Dean, we got a class soon if you want to go.” Benny shrugged and looked over at him.  
“Yeah, ok.” Dean needed something to keep his mind off Josephus, Uriel and especially Castiel. “You guys stay safe, alright?”  
“Don’t worry, Sam will be safe with me.” Charlie grinned over the tension and earned a small smile from Dean even though he felt his life falling out from under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D Thank you so much to all you wonderful readers who have left kudos and comments, they really make my day! :) As always, drop a comment if you'd like to tell me what you thought and maybe even some kudos too n.n Any predictions on how Dean's gonna solve this dilemma? Y'all better look forward to the next chapter guys, it's about to get hot up in here ;)


	10. Next Go Round

Castiel leaned back in his chair and drew a hand over his face. He knew he really should call Dean for another tutorial, as the younger angel had fled last time, but he didn’t know if he could continue strengthening Dean’s wings. The sight of them laid out before him, the way they shivered and twitched at his touch, the way Dean himself had spasmed and panted…Castiel didn’t think he could take another round of that without taking advantage of his student. They needed to confront this. They really did. Dean definitely felt this fire, and from what he’d said about being sick, he had no idea what it was. So Castiel took a deep breath and searched about in the school for Dean’s frequency. He’d memorized the tawny-winged angel’s timetable on the first day, and knew he had a break around now.  
_Dean._ But as soon as the other angel heard his call, the line snapped shut. Castiel frowned and tried again. _Dean, listen to me._  
The message rebounded and a knot of confusion creased the black-winged angel’s eyebrows down. Was Dean alright? Had he discovered what he was going through and rejected Castiel? Or was he simply busy? The older angel gave a sigh and glanced over his mental to-do list. Well, Dean was in his Weapons Tutorial in two hours, so perhaps he’d give him a chance to do whatever he needed to do, or mull over whatever he needed to mull over.

As always, Castiel arrived five minutes early and invisible. Tutorials had fewer angels in them than lectures, and he relished the opportunity to teach his students one-on-one. It was very likely that he would see them in a regiment in the future, and knowing the names and attitudes of angels was paramount to authority and encouragement. An excited buzz filled the room. This stream seemed less volatile than his Vocal Training class; Josephus and his gang had been spread out by some wise administrator, and they’d seen to put the leader at the time by himself. Speaking of, Dean and Benny appeared on a spare pair of stools at the back of the class. To Castiel’s trained eye they seemed too clean, as if they’d been healed recently. Benny always had a grim look about him, but today Dean’s face matched his friend’s; not only that, his eyes were cast down, and those splendid wings drooped. Something had befallen his Dean and a well of anger, sorrow and the desire to comfort the younger angel pooled in his stomach and burned up Castiel’s chest. This fire was different, but in no way was it weaker; if he discovered Dean had been hurt or threatened beyond the rough and tumble of the Academy ways, only God could save those responsible from his vengeance. The urge to do something was so immediate that Castiel almost dragged Dean off to question him on the spot. But he had a class to teach, and whatever needed to be dealt with would be dealt with. He’d make sure of that.

Dean knew this tutorial had been a bad idea. Yes, he’d wanted to keep his mind off things and yes, perhaps a small part of him wanted to see Cas before he left…but the black-winged angel’s sharp tone throughout the lesson was just another kick in the side. Ok, Dean had hung up on him on angel radio and now Cas seemed pissed off at him for it. It’s just…he couldn’t handle the thought of being alone with the older angel again, and that gravelly voice in his head just brought back the heat and all-consuming frustration. If Cas felt the same way, then why didn’t he give Dean a sign? Perhaps it was something to do with Dean being a Third Generation angel that had made the process go wrong. Well it didn’t matter anyway. Dean wouldn’t be around for much longer, so he’d just put up with it alone. Cas addressed the class with a final question, but Dean didn’t meet his eyes, or even look at the angel in that deceptively dorky trenchcoat. Before Cas even let them go, he began to move toward Dean. Great. Just what he needed was a spray from Cas about how he shouldn’t ignore his phone calls. Before Cas could trap him or address him, Dean flapped his wings and reappeared on the roof of the Academy. By the book, no angels were really allowed up here, but it didn’t matter; Dean couldn’t stay anyway. He slumped down and dangled his feet over the edge of the building. He’d explain his quick disappearance to Benny later and apologize for leaving him with a pissed-off Castiel.  
“Dean.”  
  
The green-eyed angel jumped half a foot as that familiar voice grated behind him. As soon as Cas arrived, Dean’s wings tingled as though begging for the other angel to touch them.  
“Damnit, Cas.” Dean growled, but only glanced at the other angel’s feet. His tutor sat down beside him, so close that their shoulders almost touched and looked out over the wide spread of the campus and several Academies below.  
“You have been avoiding me.” Cas turned to look at him, but Dean still fixed his eyes forward. “And you are upset. What happened?”  
“I’m fine.” The last thing Dean wanted was Cas serving out some docile detentions that would give Josephus and his gang and excuse to bloody up one of his friends.  
“Dean look at me.” Castiel’s hand burned on Dean’s upper arm, and to his shame, he flinched away. Cas lowered his hand, but leaned closer. So Dean finally met those blue eyes and found them full of concern. Great, the Third Marshal of Heaven was worried about his feelings.  
“I…” Dean looked away again, and to his despair, the well of anger and distress tried to manifest in tears. “I can’t protect my friends, Cas. I’m not…”  
He broke off before he broke down.  
“Tell me everything. I will help you in whatever way I can.” Castiel’s shoulder pressed against his, and Dean’s breath hitched.  
“What can you do? Hand out disciplinary actions? It won’t help, Cas.” Dean hung his head and peered down the curved face of the hundred-story building beneath him. Cas stayed silent, and Dean sighed. “Earlier today I went to my space in the Academy, and Josephus and his gang had bullied a coding angel to help them destroy it and freeze it like that. I could have put up with that – I could’ve crashed with Sam or Bobbicus, but they wrote a message that they were going after one of my friends.”  
Dean balled his fists over his knees and continued. “I got there just in time to save her, but Josephus said as long as I stayed at the Academy they would hunt down my friends and hurt them. I tried to take them out, Cas, me, Benny and Sam…but there were so many, maybe fifteen or twenty, and the only way we got out in one piece was because I threatened to kill Josephus with an angel blade. Then Uriel turned up at the worst moment and has all but expelled me. I mean, it’s for the best because without me around Josephus won’t hurt Charlie or the others but…I don’t really have anywhere else to go, Cas. This Academy has been my life for years now…gaining a rank here is the only way I’ll have a chance at finding my dad. I…I don’t know what else to do.”  
  
Dean didn’t know how he was talking more openly than he ever had in years, even with Sam. It was like a floodgate had opened and he couldn’t stop himself pouring out all his worries. Dean almost jumped backwards when he looked back up at the older angel. Cas’s mouth was a moue of anger and his feathers vibrated with rage. Holy wrath seemed to surround him in an aura that Dean couldn’t see, but felt down to every atom of his essence. He realized that not once had he ever seen the Marshal of Heaven truly furious, and the fact that Cas had become so worked up over him shivered through his spine. The older angel didn’t say a word. His head snapped back to the view, as if searching for something. Then Dean was alone.  
“Cas?” Dean looked about, but there was no reply. The younger angel closed his eyes and tried to latch on to Cas’s signal, but there was nothing. Dean had nothing better to do, and he had a feeling Cas would be back, so he let the sun heat his feathers and waited.  
  
Almost an hour passed before the familiar _whump_ of wings heralded Cas’s return. The angel was a mess. Blood and grace drenched his knuckles and had spattered over his tan trenchcoat and white shirt. More flecks of essence had sprayed over his face, but Cas didn’t seem to give a fuck as he wiped his angel blade on his coat and tucked it away again.  
“They will not bother you or your friends again, Dean.” Cas’s gorgeous jaw twitched and holy light still seethed in his eyes from whatever can of whoop-ass he’d just opened. A wave of delicious heat simmered over Dean’s skin as he took in the other angel. He couldn’t help it. The sight of Cas covered in blood and radiating battle prowess made his wings quiver with desire. Hell, he wanted Cas to touch him everywhere, anywhere... His cock twitched and began to swell and harden under his jeans. Fuck. Dean realized he was staring like a love-struck puppy and found his voice.  
“You...you didn’t _kill_ them did you?” Honestly, he wouldn't put it past him.  
“I believe I came close.” Cas’s face was a hard mask, but softened when he turned to Dean.  
“You shouldn’t have to fight my fights, Cas.” Dean suddenly became very aware of the small space between him and Cas’ noses and he met those blue eyes.  
“This was Uriel’s doing.” The older angel’s voice faltered as their gaze held. “He is not your fight, and it would be unfair for you to try and thwart him. I warned him that if you are expelled, he will lose his job at best.”  
“Cas…” Dean could feel the heat of Castiel’s breath on his face, he could almost taste those pretty lips, and his whole being couldn’t even concentrate on forming words. The stiffness in his pants throbbed heat to the rest of his being and Dean’s wings shivered again. Cas’s laser-like stare snapped up to them.  
“Dean, come with me.” Cas put a hand on his shoulder and Dean managed out a breathy ‘ok’ before the flat roof of the Academy vanished and a lush green field appeared beneath them. Wildflowers of every colour smattered the grass like multi-coloured stars. To the left stretched a fir forest and up ahead of them a tall, open plan Grecian building rose out of the green.  
  
“W-w-where are we?” Dean looked about. The hum of bees filled his ears and a bright blue butterfly flitted through the air in front of him.  
“My space. Since yours is ruined, you are welcome to it.” Cas still had his hand on Dean’s shoulder, but during the flight here, he’d managed to pray the blood and guts away; his hands and clothes were clean again. This was the space of a very important, powerful angel, and it struck Dean for the second time that Cas was one of the most high-ranking angels in Heaven.  
“It’s very…uh, pretty.” Dean finished. Cas was in such close proximity that his head wouldn’t provide the right words. His dick pulsed desperation through his body, his head spun, his wings with felt live with electricity…there was so much sensation that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.  
“Did you expect blades and blood?” Cas gave a small smile, but his eyes never left Dean’s. The younger angel’s breath came more laboured by the moment, even though Dean tried every mental command to stop it.  
“K-kinda yeah.”  
“Was yours like that?” Cas cocked his head and shifted so close that the material of his trenchcoat brushed Dean’s chest and stomach, which lit up like fire.  
“N-no..uh…” Then Dean’s wings did something they’d never done before. They unfurled out to their full length, but tilted upwards to the point where every inch of the soft, inner feathers not obscured by his shoulders was exposed to Castiel. He realized too late that he'd just put himself on display like a dancer spreading on a pole. “Sorry, I didn’t – “  
  
Dean never finished that sentence because before he could think, Castiel curled one hand around his neck and the other about his waist and kissed him. Both angels gasped as streaks of pleasure lanced through their essence, but the fire in their Grace had no mercy. The older angel grabbed Dean’s head again and pressed their lips together. Holy crap. It felt as though a door had been opened and then slammed behind him; no going back, and he didn’t want to go back. There were no questions, no embarrassment about doing something no angel was meant to enjoy; Dean just tossed himself into the burning fire and basked in the selfish want it roared with, and it seemed Cas had done the same. This is what he’d been trying to pin down, this is what he _craved_ , oh fuck, he needed Cas closer, he needed just more of the other angel, he needed... Dean moaned into the kiss and ground against the matching hardness in Cas’s pants, one hand clenched in the back of his trenchcoat, as the other cupped that chiselled jaw. Cas’s fingers trailed over his inner feathers, and Dean lost it. He gave a cry as his knees buckled and clung to the other angel. Pleasure beyond anything he could have imagined – hell, angels could barely conceive of anything like this – juddered through him, and when Cas stopped, he noted that those black wings had spread wide too, just screaming to be touched.  
  
The sight of the restrained, dead-calm Marshal of Heaven's wings open in a silent plea before him, the sound of Cas's ragged breath, hell it made his head spin it seemed so - so goddamn _forbidden!_ Driven by fire, Dean pulled himself upright again and thrust his tongue into the other angel’s mouth. Cas groaned and sucked as Dean carded his nails through his partner’s wings. They shuddered and flicked; Castiel bit into Dean’s neck to mask his own cries, and heat roiled beneath Dean’s skin. Desire clenched in his belly, irresistible temptation; he could see why other angels were afraid or even disgusted by this – it could tear you apart with lust and bring you to your knees with basic need, could take the most serious, collected angel and turn them into an animal, but Dean lapped it all up with greedy hands and an insatiable mouth. Then Cas pushed him away, shrugged down his trenchcoat and literally tore off Dean’s shirt with a harsh rip.  
“I want you, Dean. I want you so much.” The older angel panted, his eyes dark with lust as he ran his hand over Dean’s bare chest. Dean just gave a breathy ‘yes’ in reply and wished the rest of his clothes away. He wanted it, he wanted it so much in a carnal, sinful desire. He met Cas’s eyes, and the hunger in them as he took in Dean’s naked, hard body made the tawny angel’s wings tremble and give encouraging little flaps to entice his partner to mate.  
“Please…” He finished the statement his wings had started, eyes half closed with desire. Cas gave a flick of his hand, and now it was Dean’s turn to stare. Battle-scars decorated Castiel’s naked body like trophies and the younger angel couldn’t help but stare at that cock up and ready to ravage his body, his essence. Cas pulled his head forward for another ferocious kiss and Dean found himself being hefted up around the older angel's hips. He wrapped his thighs around Cas's waist, eager for anything that would get them closer.  
  
Oh, holy _crap!_ Every point where their skin brushed shocked through Dean’s spine; he gave a harsh moan and sucked at the soft skin just below Cas’s ear as he tried to somehow make the other angel closer. Then those dagger-like, black wings pumped once and the two angels soared into the sky, kissing and grinding, trying to take the edge off this all-consuming hunger. The speed as they twirled and lurched through the air sealed Dean’s body against Cas’, and he gripped the older angel against him, the desire to be united, to be fulfilled, manifested in hungry, desperate lips. Cas’s skin burned against him but rather than sating this need, the frustration grew and grew. His deeply flushed cock throbbed with urgency as he writhed and bucked on Cas’s body, but even that made it worse.  
“Cas...” He gasped and reached out to stroke the other angel’s wings with his own. A sharp shot of pleasure arched his back in need, and Cas gave a shuddering cry; his wings jerked and they plummeted downwards, through the first story of Cas’s stone mansion and hit the ground like a comet. Before he had time to recover from the fall, Cas hauled him to his feet and pinned him against a wall. The other angel’s hot, wet cock ground against his ass-cheek, and Deans hands clawed into the stone as Cas’ burning tongue lapped against the base of his left wing. Ecstasy shivered through all his nerve-endings and his eyes flew back in his head as he rolled his hips back against Cas, desperate to be filled.  
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Cas – “ Dean broke off and gave a cry as the other angel placed a careful bite just a little higher than the base of his wing. That heat boiled through Dean and he ripped trenches in the wall as any semblance of control left him. He’d never even known such sensation was possible, and he was helpless beneath its unexpected drive.  
“Want you on your back.” Castiel growled and a shiver lanced through his body; on your back with your wings trapped underneath you and your belly and soft underfeathers exposed was the position of ultimate submission for an angel. But the way Dean was right now, Hell, he’d lick Cas’s boots to get what he wanted.  
  
“Yes,” Dean panted and gave a groan of frustration as the heat of Cas’s body left his back. He turned about and was swept into a kiss. Castiel gripped his hips and steered him backwards down the high-vaulted stone hallway. Dean reached up as they moved and ran his fingers along those black feathers he loved so much. Cas gave a loud, desperate moan into the kiss, a noise Dean didn't think was _possible_ from such a reserved warrior, and the older angel worked his lips harder, hotter as their slick cocks bumped against each other. Dean hadn’t realized they’d made it into a grass courtyard until Cas pushed him down by the shoulder onto his knees.  
  
“On your back.” The older angel growled, and barely-contained Grace simmered in his eyes. Dean collapsed backward and spread both his legs and his wings as he panted on the ground. Desire to be taken slammed through him again in a rush of heat and he gave a frantic moan, arched his ass and spine off the ground, closed his eyes and threw his head back in frustration. A rough hand hoisted his hips and Dean dared to open his eyes. Castiel knelt between his legs, hair and feathers utterly debauched, lips swollen from their hard kisses. Those laser-sharp eyes zeroed in on every inch of him, and the path of his slow gaze seared up Dean’s skin. The younger angel spread his legs as far as he could and again, his wings gave little flutters of encouragement. Dean’s entrance was already slick and ready – it seemed, since every gender of angel was able to mate, the functions supplied what was needed case by case. Cas spread those black wings in an arc of dominance above him and pressed his hot cock against Dean’s entrance. The younger angel’s body shook, and broken cries left his throat as the thick head pushed him open with short, slow thrusts. It was more than just an organ entering his body – he could feel Cas’s Grace near his own, and every time they brushed, sparks of ecstasy popped in front of Dean’s vision. Castiel’s eyes were half shut as he held his body above Dean’s with one arm and his mouth hung open slack as the angel gasped and groaned from the sensation of entering his mate.  
“  
Fuck Cas, deeper, harder!” Dean grunted out. Cas pulled their bodies flush, covered his lips with a kiss and thrust his hips again. Both angels gave a hoarse cry as their Grace zinged against each other in an unexpected stab of white-hot pleasure. Dean writhed and slammed himself down on the other angel’s cock and Cas matched his rhythm. Castiel was inside him, in his essence, ramming pleasure through every inch of his Grace; so good it was on the point of tearing him apart. He could hear his own hoarse yells and Cas’s too as they clung to each other, writhing as white hot light welled beneath his skin and eyes. Just when he didn’t think he could experience more pleasure, Cas thrust his hand into the small feathers at the base of a wing and matched the rhythm of their hips with his fingers.  
“Fuck!” Dean gave a broken shout and tossed his head back. His Grace trembled and zinged against Cas’s in pleasure so intense it almost hurt, the physical sensation of Cas’s hard cock deep inside his body provided a base, instinctive satisfaction, while the ravaging of his delicate feathers shot shocks of white-hot light to his nerve-endings. Above him, Castiel’s eyes shone with divine light as ragged cries tore out of his throat. Those black wings stuttered and beat the air and Dean sank his hand into them as pleasure wracked through his body and essence. White light spewed from his eyes and shone about his muscles as Cas’s Grace and cock rammed into him one last time. Everything he was – his body, his essence, his wings – writhed and shook with pleasure and it swept him away. Dean didn’t lose consciousness, but was wracked again and again and again until he had no idea where he was, when he was and could barely remember his own name.  
  
After what could have been minutes or hours, the white burn trickled out of his vision, and he found himself so entangled with Cas that they could have been one being. His Grace burned up his throat but Dean called it back inside him again; no way was it going to fuse with Cas’s and make a mini angel. Maybe one day, but he wasn’t ready at all for that kind of commitment.  
“That was…better than I could have ever imagined.” Cas’s voice broke even lower as he spoke into the curve of Dean’s neck. Cas’s collapsed weight on his chest was perfect; not too heavy or so light it was barely there, but a satisfying dense warmth. The younger angel’s body gave a left-over shudder, and both of them moaned. “We have to do that again some time.”  
“You’ve got that right.” Dean panted and kissed his mate’s shoulder. His vision swam and his whole being floated in relaxed luxury. Holy ever-living crap. He almost couldn’t believe what they’d just done; before recently, such a concept had been all but alien to his mind. They lay in each other’s arms for a few moments, still joined.  
“I already want you again.” Cas lifted his head, and the shimmer of blessed light still danced in his eyes. It was true – although the heat had been sated, Dean could still feel its presence like hot coals ready to kindle a fire. The black-winged angel ran his hand through Dean’s hair and cocked his head to one side. Dean gave a grunt at the back of his throat as Cas’s dick swelled inside of him. His own cock twitched in response and his wings fluttered, eager to be touched. The older angel gave a tentative thrust, and Dean moaned in appreciation. Now they’d taken the edge off their hunger, everything wasn’t so desperate; they could afford to take it slow. Cas knelt back and Dean propped himself up on his forearms, so he could watch the older angel slide into him.  
“I think we wrecked your house.” Dean grinned as Cas watched him sit up.  
“Mm. We should wreck it some more.” The black-winged angel pushed a little deeper into Dean with a slow rock of his hips and a flush of heat raced up the younger angel’s stomach and chest as he chuckled. The Marshal of Heaven being so calm and controlled, but saying things like that made Dean feel as though no other angel in Heaven would see Castiel like this, or knew he could even act so dirty and in all honesty it made Dean smug as a kitten. But he didn’t get long to dwell on it; Dean’s Grace sparked as Cas’s almost touched it, and the dull throb of need in his body began to build.  
  
“You know, I thought you’d be nothing but trouble when we met, Dean.” Cas drew his cock out half-way and they both shivered as their Graces slid against one another on the slow thrust in again. Dean reached a hand up and began to stroke Cas’s feathers, working from the long, scarred primaries toward the soft, inner feathers. The older angel groaned, closed his eyes and dropped his wings lower so Dean had easier access.  
“I’m glad you - ahh! – chose to kick my ass.” Dean choked and shuddered as his mate’s Grace dragged with a cruel slowness inside his, lighting up every single atom along the way. “Oh crap…”  
The arm he held himself up with shook and his feathers vibrated with incessant sparks. Cas gave a strangled moan from what Dean was doing with his fingers, but he didn’t release Dean from this slow torture.  
“Oh, I’m so glad.” The older angel groaned, and languid blue eyes met Dean’s. Cas gave another long, hot thrust and heat throbbed through every inch of Dean’s body. His breath came in gasps as the white hot pleasure from where their Grace tangled shook his skin. Dean wanted to live in this state forever, have Cas give it to him and give it to him till he was a broken, shaking mess. He knew this instinct was built into angelic coding, but it felt like sin, felt so delicious and decadent, and his brain should find that wrong, should find it blasphemic, but he just wanted more… Dean raised his wings upward to brush Cas’ smaller black ones and he felt holy fire boil under his eyes from the sensation of feathers on feathers.  
“Uhn, Dean.” Cas shivered and bent over him, shaking from the ecstasy of both Dean’s slow fingers and feathers on the sensitive underside of his wings. The grip on the younger angel’s hips tightened, but Cas didn’t break his pace; their Grace slid together so slow and intense that Dean didn’t know how he could feel so overwhelmed yet not climax. He gave a throaty cry and shut his eyes as his essence exploded with drawn-out pleasure. Hundreds of sparks shuddered through his wings as he teased them on Cas’s rougher feathers, but he still didn’t come.  
“Look at me, Dean.” Cas smacked his thigh, and sudden pain made Dean’s head spin. He was a panting, shaking, hot mess and he wanted to ram himself on to Cas’s hard cock, slake his lust, but the older angel’s hands were like a vice on his hips.  
  
Dean raised his eyes to Castiel’s half-shut blue ones. With the next leisurely push into him, Cas’s eyes glowed and his black wings tangled themselves deeper into Dean’s feathers. The younger angel tried to grit his teeth against the hoarse shout in his throat without success and his spread thighs juddered. The edges of his vision blurred white and his wings writhed against Cas’s, which sent spikes of pleasure through him and inadvertently made him squeeze tighter against his mate’s invading Grace. Oh fuck. Ooh _fuck_. Pleasure so powerful it lifted his hips off the support of Cas’s knees and burned behind his eyes jolted through him like a bolt of hyper-lightning. Every second of the slow-built ecstasy slammed into Dean in one go as his entire being was wracked with white hot sensation. Castiel pinned him back flat on the ground as he gave one last agonizingly slow thrust and buried his cock fully inside Dean’s contracting tunnel. The older angel sank bruising teeth into Dean’s neck to mute his scream of pleasure and Dean slammed himself on that spasming, hard rod within him. Cas’s Grace coiled around his own so tight that Dean’s body writhed, out of his own control. His throat broke into shouts and irrepressible cries before his vision exploded into divine white light.

  
“Dean, I have a class to teach in ten minutes.” Cas muttered into his cheek and Dean chuckled. “What?”  
“We have incredible, mind-blowing sex and you have to teach a class.” Dean grinned and nibbled his tutor’s ear.  
“You have to attend said class, unless you want disciplinary action.” Cas murmured and nipped his neck.  
“Hey!” How Cas could seem so proper and still be so _improper_ , Dean had no idea. Although the thought of Cas giving him ‘disciplinary action’ wasn’t exactly a threat. “You sure we’ll make it through a class without trying to get it on?”  
“We’re going have to find out, aren’t we?” Cas pushed up off him, but his eyes were teasing. Dean gave a high gasp as the other angel slid out of him.  
“Do you think you could ride me again before the class starts?” Dean shot the black winged angel a coy grin. To his credit, Cas’s eyes wandered over him, eyes full of desire.  
“Lead us not into temptation, Dean.” Cas quoted and stroked along the other angel’s muscular chest, a small smile of satisfaction on his lips. Dean reached up and pulled the older angel into a hot, slow kiss. Cas’s lips melted against his and Dean gave a muted groan as their tongues slid against one another. Cas caught the younger angel's bottom lip in his perfect white teeth and with a gentle tug they parted again. Dean panted as he watched Castiel stand and conjure his clothes up again. Seriously, other angels did not know what they were missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that should've been enjoyable ;) All you people who have left comments and kudos are so awesome!! Thanks a heap; I'm so glad people are enjoying my rambles :) If you'd like to read a book by me, click [ here!](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) And as per usual, if you liked the chapter or just have something to say, I'd love to hear from you!


	11. Can't Get No Satisfaction

Castiel let Dean fly into the lecture hall first, but arrived straight after him, invisible. Today had been beyond his imagination, beyond any concept his angelic thought could conjure. Demons were made for hedonism and pleasure; angels were built to resist it. The temptation of Dean bordered on sin, and for once in his life, Castiel wanted to sin again and again and again for him. On that note, he knew he’d probably gone too far at teaching Josephus and his company a lesson. He wanted to deny to himself that the fear and disbelief on their faces had been enjoyable. He wanted to reject that their realization that patience of the Third Marshal of Heaven was not to be tested had been satisfying. They hadn’t even had time to beg. Castiel knew the cowardly angels would have, but his rage hadn’t allowed the patience for it. He cast his eyes toward the higher tiers of the lecture hall, and found them empty. Not a surprise, as half the angels hadn’t even been conscious by the time he’d finished with them. The ones awake had been screaming on the floor. Where Dean was concerned, Castiel knew he was a loose cannon, but they had been warned. The very first day, he had warned the whole school that he would punish bullies. It seemed for a while that Josephus hadn’t taken him seriously, but now Castiel figured he’d changed his mind.  
  
After three minutes of wandering about the rows, Castiel found himself drawn back to where Dean sat. He let himself admire at leisure those tawny wings; one day he would sit Dean down and caress them from shoulder to tip until the green-eyed angel came from the stimulation. Castiel clenched his hand as his cock hardened for what felt like the hundredth time today; he could just stroke Dean here and now, despite the other angels around. Did he care if they found out? Not really, although he had to keep up his authoritative mask. The older angel noted with a smug pride that Dean’s neck was red with lovebites, marks that Castiel had mated with him.  
“Where’d you fly off so fast to after Weaponry?” Benny appeared beside Dean and gave him a worried once-over. “Castiel seemed mighty keen to git on after you – left before half the students did!”  
“Yeah, uh, he wanted to talk.” Dean ran his hand over the back of his head in a form of delicious guilt.  
“Did he do that to your neck there?” Benny reached over and smug sensation coiled through Castiel’s stomach.  
“What?” Dean extended a hand up to his neck and touched the places Castiel’s lips and teeth had marked him not ten minutes ago.  
“Looks like you done gone got bitten.” Benny cocked his head in confusion as Dean’s mouth hung open trying to find a valid explanation. Castiel gave a cocky smile and listened to the younger angel struggle for a moment as he paced to the front of the class. Then he let his face fall back into that natural mask and let himself be seen.  
“Good afternoon.” He began and saw Dean give a sigh of relief. “As you all may have noticed, certain members of this class befell an…unfortunate accident and will not be attending.”  
  
A murmur rushed about, but Josephus and his gang had been too boisterous for many angels to miss their presence. Some angels glanced toward Dean, and Castiel couldn’t help but follow suit. It took all his billions of years of experience to stop his wings from propositioning their strength and prowess to the younger angel as Dean flicked him a wink. This may get problematic.  
“Today we shall continue last week’s lesson; I shall observe and aide your meditative techniques. Some of you may find your voice today, others may take months, some can take years.” Castiel paced to find some distraction from the urge that trickled over his skin. “Do not feel ashamed if you cannot reach it; practise is everything, so feel free to meditate thus in your spare time.”  
  
He stood back and waited for the students to enter their respective trances. These were easy to monitor; Castiel could observe from their personal vibrations whether they were near to their serenity or not; then he could give them a simple nudge in the correct direction. He paced about the room in silence, watching and waiting, though he moved near to no particular student. He didn’t want to make them nervous. But the sight of Dean, eyes closed and wings slightly open in relaxation was too much of a lure. Castiel prowled up beside him and in one sure movement carded his nails down the underside of Dean’s wing, then snapped his hands back behind his back. Dean jumped and had to grab the lecture desk in front of him to stop himself falling off the stool. Castiel noted how he very skilfully turned a highly erotic gasp into a bout of coughing.  
“Dean, are you quite alright?” Castiel turned a nonchalant blue gaze on his lover as Dean stared at him in disbelief. Some of the other angels peered over, curious.  
“Uhh, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” The younger angel cleared his throat and turned back to his task.  
“Good.” Castiel carried on and fought the urge to smirk.  
You _should be getting disciplinary action, disturbing the class like that._ Dean sent a message through to him on a private wavelength.  
_I am not responsible for the actions of my students, Dean. And I count temptation as an action._ Castiel paced and pretended to know where he was going. He didn’t want to teach right now. He wanted to shove Dean up against a wall and fuck him till he couldn’t stand.  
_Why didn’t you tell me I had frickin bite-marks on my neck? I can’t explain that!_ Dean complained, but it wasn’t difficult to tell he was pleased in a way too.  
_I like it._ Castiel gave a smug smile of satisfaction as the younger angel’s wings trembled across the room. _And you do too. You didn’t heal them._  
_You got me there Cas._ Dean’s cocky little grin came across in the message, so Castiel simply sent him the thought of what he wanted to do to him after the lecture. There was a moment of silence, and the older angel saw Dean cross his legs and clench his knuckles white.  
_How long is this class again?_  
_Too long._ Castiel sighed as heat washed through him again like the incoming tide. 

It was the longest hour of Castiel’s billions of years. To his surprise, several angels found the serene space in their Grace including Dean.  
“Very good job today, class.” Castiel nodded as his students stood. “Practise. Dean, you stay behind, I wish to speak to you.”  
Beside Dean, Benny’s eyes flicked between the pair of them, but the stoic angel made no comment. As soon as the other students had vanished, Castiel strode over to the door and effectively locked the space. No-one would be interrupting them.  
“Oh, am I in trouble?” Dean smirked as raised his eyebrows. Castiel took his time on his way back to Dean, and he felt the other angel’s gaze running him up and down. He slid a hand over Dean’s jaw and cocked his head.  
“Sing for me.”  
“Sing for you?” Dean grinned and tilted his head, eyes playful and defiant all at once. “And if I don’t?”  
Castiel fixed his stare on him until they were both awash with heat.  
“Well…” The older angel paced around Dean and ran his hand down the outermost feather on Dean’s left wing. It was so soft that Castiel lingered and stroked back up again. The tawny angel’s knees all but buckled, and the sight of Dean losing control twitched his cock semi-hard. “This lecture hall isn’t in use for the rest of the day. I can wait.”  
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Dean tried to grin, but his ragged breaths got in the way. Castiel paced around him until they were facing again, and drew his face close to the younger angel’s so that their lips brushed as he spoke.  
“Sing for me. Just a little.” Castiel leaned back as Dean tried to catch his mouth in a kiss. Even though lust ran rampant through his essence, and his own lips ached from pulling away, Castiel knew he had enough experience at self-control to outlast Dean.  
“How?” Dean’s voice came out gruff and lower than usual.  
  
Castiel paced around him again and dug his fingernails into his hands to stop him from touching his student  
“Now you’ve found that place in your Grace, it’s not difficult to find it again.” Even though he kept a few inches between himself and the other angel, Castiel could almost feel the material of Dean’s shirt and the planes of his body as he walked about him. “Tap it. Follow the instincts it gives you.”  
Dean closed his eyes, breath ragged and hands balled into fists. Cas’s dick throbbed into full-blown, hard frustration, but he used all of his mental brackets set aside for torture to ignore it. He leaned into Dean’s neck, hands gentle on his mate’s shoulders.  
“And open your throat.” Castiel whispered as his lips brushed the marks he’d bitten into Dean earlier.  
  
The other angel gave an involuntary whimper as Castiel pulled away again. His Grace pulsed, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it showed up in his eyes. Dean stilled for a moment, just long enough for Castiel to wonder whether he was having trouble or not. Then the younger angel arched his neck and his true voice rang out through the hall. Castiel closed his eyes and fell into the sound. There was no particular song, as to be expected from the first try, but its timbre struck the smaller angel down to his core. Like a harsh war-bell it was, musical yet gut-wrenching in its intention; that was not the voice of a rank and file angel. The clarity of it pealed through Castiel’s being and filled the older angel’s wings with electric tingles, so good that he tilted his neck back in indulgence. The sound petered off and Castiel opened his eyes again. Dean panted in front of him, but he didn’t get much time to recover; Castiel gripped him by the front of the shirt and threw him back hard against the wall. The younger angel gave a gasp of surprise and lust as the older angel lashed open his wings in a show of his authority: that Dean would submit to him right here and now. A small moan of affirmation was the only thing Castiel allowed before he swooped in on him and kissed and nipped up Dean’s neck and jaw. The younger angel’s body writhed against the wall and he tangled his fingers in Castiel’s hair.  
“How about,” Dean panted as their lips fought against one another in a hot, breathy mess. “I show you what else I can do with my throat.”  
  
This time Castiel’s back hit the wall, and a rush of wild heat and the best kind of disbelief swept through him as Dean sank down to the carpet on his knees. The sight of Dean in that position of supplication on the ground before him stroked a sweet spot somewhere in a dark, depraved part of his existence. His wings thudded against the surface behind him four or five quick times in a definite ‘yes, please yes’. Dean slid his hands up Castiel’s legs, up over his ass, hooked his teeth around the older angel’s belt and tore straight through it. Eagle-like wings raised up to a height Castiel could reach, but he wasn’t going to give Dean the satisfaction until he saw those full lips stretched over his already-leaking cock. Dextrous fingers undid his trousers and Castiel gave a small, needy grunt as his member hit cooler air. He snatched a fistful of Dean’s hair and pulled those green eyes up to look at him.  
“Suck me. Now.” He growled, but Dean didn’t look away. Instead he tilted his head to one side and ran his tongue the full length of Castiel’s cock without breaking eye-contact. The older angel bared his teeth as pleasure shuddered through his legs and tingled in his Grace. He stroked Dean’s hair instead of holding him in place and encouraged his mate with sharp little flicks of his wings. The younger angel bent lower and sucked long, hot kisses around the base of his cock. A luxurious groan left Castiel’s lips. He tipped his head back against the wall as his hips swayed, and Castiel moved his hand from Dean’s head into those soft, young wings. A moan vibrated against Castiel’s dick and Dean’s wings jerked and trembled beneath his hand. Castiel’s essence throbbed with need to climax and his mouth twisted around gasps as the larger angel ever so slowly worked his way up to the dark head of his member. He looked down with half-closed eyes just in time to see Dean flick the slit of his cock with his tongue and then wrap his burning lips around the girth.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel cried and tossed his head back as his spine arched. Even in Dean’s mouth, he could feel the younger angel’s Grace in close proximity to his own. Like back at the mansion, he wanted deeper, he wanted that ecstatic zing of almost unendurable pleasure. Dean gave a loud, muffled moan, curled his fingers deeper into Castiel’s ass cheeks and took in more of his length. Dust sprayed out of the wall as the Marshal of Heaven spasmed, threw out and arm and sank his fingers into the yielding plasterboard. The spark as their essences grazed in white-hot pleasure shone blueish light from beneath Dean’s closed eyelids. Castiel’s other hand worked deeper into Dean’s wings, and the younger angel’s body bucked; he craned his neck and swallowed Castiel down all the way. The Marshal of Heaven let out an unrestrained yell and ripped a gouge in the wall as his eyes rolled under heated lids.

It just so happened that at that moment, Uriel strode down the corridor, face a grim mask of hidden fury. How dare Castiel –  
The cry of an angel, probably in distress, resounded from the room beside him. What the…he peered through the small window and half-open blinds. The scene within made Uriel’s eyes fly open in disbelief. Speak of the Devil (or close enough), there was the Marshal of Heaven, third in line to the throne, up against the front the classroom; his wings were all but flattened against the wall while one hand had clawed a trough through the facing. Instead of his usual expressionless veneer, Castiel’s eyes glowed through clenched eyelids, his mouth open in a slack oval as his head jerked back against the surface behind him. A line of saliva glinted at the corner of his mouth and his body gave spasm after spasm. Was he in pain? Uriel would have turned and walked away if that were the case, but then he noticed where the angel’s other hand was; entangled in the most recognizable wings on campus – Dean. What in all Heaven…? That was a scandal right there in itself. The younger angel’s head was buried in…oh. Ohhhh. Uriel slapped a hand over his mouth in disgust and revulsion crawled like hundreds of spiders through his Grace. So that’s why the Marshal of Heaven had been so sweet on Dean and so cruel to his boys. They were… _mates?_ And they looked like they were _enjoying_ it! No angel enjoyed it! It was sick! Had they no sense of shame or - or purity? Even the _thought_ felt vulgar in Uriel’s head and anger roiled beneath his skin. He’d been waiting hundreds of years for an opportunity with someone like Castiel to promote him out of this dump. Now he’d be second to Dean just because that Third Generation pretty-boy got tied to the Marshal through some filthy, debasing mating instinct? Not on his watch. Uriel filed the sick – sinful! – sight of the pair under ‘Blackmail’ in his angelic thought processes and marched on his way, wings twitching with fury. Uriel didn’t see the janitor, who backed out of a suspiciously small cupboard behind him with a trolley of angelic cleaning equipment, and watched him go with a frown of disapproval.

Castiel, on the other hand, was so distracted that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if Uriel had marched through the door that second. Dean’s tongue swirled something wicked around his cock and the Marshal of Heaven gave another hoarse yell as the other angel’s throat contracted; he’d tried to cry out around the member in his mouth. Castiel could just make out through blurred eyes the way his mate’s shoulders and back quivered with pleasure. He knew they shouldn’t be doing this here, that they should be wary and conservative, but the illicit nature of the space just made everything far more exciting than it should have been. Then Dean bobbed quicker on his cock and their Graces rubbed in a tight, electrical, unbearable friction. The realization that Dean was fucking himself on Castiel’s Grace coiled through his already shaking body; the older angel thrashed against the wall, overcome by physical and mental sensation. He let out another unruly moan before he could stop himself. Being inside Dean, inside his Grace, inside his essence felt like Castiel’s own Grace was trapped in a lightning storm of pleasure. Ecstasy zapped through him again and again, and it was all he could do to keep upright.  
  
“Dean…Dean!” Castiel’s throat grated out the words as his hips bucked faster into Dean’s mouth. Suddenly, his fingers slid into a spot on Dean’s wing a little above the base, right after the feathers began, and Castiel knew that somehow he’d hit gold. Dean all but screamed around his cock and the vibrations of his Grace wracked Castiel so hard that pleasure burst within him, raced up through his essence like electricity in water and spurted holy light out his eyes and throat as he came. He let go of the wall and clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the whole Academy from hearing his release. The heat of Dean’s own divine fire around his cock as the younger angel came too sent him into another orgasmic shudder and the clawed tips on his wings scratched down the wall as his knees collapsed. All he could see was white as the ecstasy shook him again and again until it was all but unbearable. Then colour trickled back into his vision and he found Dean’s head resting on his thigh as the younger angel still quaked in a heap against him. Castiel’s Grace tried to take advantage of the exhaustion of after-glow, but he yanked it back inside him. He never wanted to stop craving Dean like this. If God had a problem with him being a hedonistic sinner, then He could come back and smite him Himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that angels don't need to breathe and don't have gag reflexes = an ironic, excellent skill at blow jobs, lol. Sorry for the late chapter, I've been unhealthily busy! :c But I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks to all the wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, and as always, I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter too!


	12. Something Evil This Way Comes

_Dean, can I talk to you?_ Sam’s terse voice beamed into Dean’s head. What did the moose want now? Castiel had gone off to Combat Training with another stream (otherwise they would still probably be ripping that lecture theatre to shreds with violent, holy sex) so Dean had paid a visit to the Hall of Aerial Arts; a huge space set up with obstacles, random reflex testers, enemies and a variety of difficult spaces in which to test flight skills. Herias zoomed past him; it seemed that after the ordeal with Charlie, the angel had ditched Josephus’ group altogether but had been too afraid to turn up to class in case the bullies turned on them. Now that Dean wasn’t such an A grade douche and now that Herias wasn’t trying to be ‘cool’, both of them got along pretty well – not to mention that Herias was an excellent flier. It wouldn’t be fair to compare them to Cas, but out of all the students, Herias was definitely up there with the fastest. Good for running away from bullies  
  
_I’m busy, bro!_ Dean dodged a hyper-fast axe that swung out in front of him as Herias began a Max Difficulty Speed Run with one of his fast friends – it seemed that the angel had spent most of their time here after the new head honcho, ultimate dick Josephus, had taken over. It was so good to see the angel in an element of their own; when he’d been Asshole #1, he’d never really thought about how other angels had hobbies and delights. He’d just thought about the best ways to control them.  
_Please Dean? Don’t make me summon you._ Sam sighed as Dean tucked in his wings and did a speeding barrel-roll through a space that would no way in hell accommodate his huge span.  
_Fine._ Dean sighed and snapped his wings into a flare at the sudden wall on the other side. He then opened a channel to Herias. _Sam wants to see me, so I’m checking out now._  
_Sweet! See ya round, Dean._ The other angel called back. It was protocol to check out with your practise buddies or else they might think you’d gotten creamed by a giant axe and would have to go find your sorry unconscious ass. Dean spread his wings for long-distance flight and appeared in front of a bitchy-looking Sam and a worried-looking Benny.  
  
“Dean, what did you do?” Sam began before the older angel could say anything.  
“What do you mean what did I do?” Dean protested and sat down on one of the green Lore Academy common room couches.  
“I’m talking about Josephus and co.” Sam crossed his arms and the pair sat down opposite to him.  
“What about them?” Dean didn’t know whether what Cas had done warranted as a crime or not so he feigned innocence.  
“Dean…” Sam gave a sigh of frustration. “They were found half-dead in some back alley of the Academy of War. I saw the medic angels take them away and some of them look like they won’t be functioning for months! They’d been beaten so badly that I wouldn’t be surprised if their Grace was damaged!”  
“And? How is that to do with me?” A thrill shot through Dean’s wings, but he did kinda feel a bit bad about it. Then again, they had threatened to gang bash Sam, Charlie and Benny, not to mention that other coding angel and whoever else got in their way.  
“Because it happened the same day we got our asses handed to us by them!” Sam exclaimed and his dappled grey wings twitched with exasperation.  
“What, so you think I just popped back and went all Jackie Chan-Chuck Norris on their asses?” Both angels stared at him in confusion and Dean sighed. Earth music and TV were a bit of a guilty pleasure. “I mean, how could I have possibly done that?”  
  
“Maybe it wasn’t you, Dean.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you used a spell or holy fire or – “  
“No, it wasn’t me, Sam!” Dean wasn’t lying, but Sam narrowed his eyes.  
“Then who was it? I know you know.”  
“It was Castiel, weren’t it?” Benny’s low drawl cut between the spoken angelic hand-slap fight between the brothers.  
“Not even Castiel could take on fifteen plus angels and win!” Sam looked between the stout angel and Dean’s very guilty expression, which he tried to hide but was too impressed by his mate for it to succeed. A trickle of pleasure made Dean shuffle his wings in a very smug way. Damn Cas was badass.  
“Unless they only had the basic training and experience of Third Generation angels.” Dean offered as Sam spluttered around incredulity for a moment.  
“So, what, you called Castiel and told him to _murder_ them?” Sam shook his head in disbelief and those long brown locks did a gratuitous slo-mo.  
“What the hell, no!” Dean yelped. Well, not exactly. “He saw there was something wrong and asked me what it was. I dunno, he kinda cornered me and I told him what Josephus had been doing, threatening you guys…then he got really mad and just vanished.”  
“What’s goin’ on ‘tween you and Castiel anyhow?’ Benny cocked his head. “After he followed you outta that Weapons Tute, he been starin’ at you like he wants to run you through…or somethin’ like that, I can’t quite pin it down. And you never told me how you got them neck-bites.”  
  
Sam’s eyes zeroed in on the red patches and his eyebrows did an Olympic high-jump. Whoops, Dean had totally forgotten to heal those. Or not forgotten. Hey, he liked wearing proof that he belonged with Cas. But how the heck did he explain that he’d really got those bites from a couple of hours ago when his mate, the Third Marshal of Heaven had been balls deep in his ass and trying to muffle a scream of pleasure? Not that it seemed as though Benny would be one of those angel’s that’d judge him for mating but...  
“Uhh...” Dean eyeballed the floor as that heat rushed over his skin like the rising tide and sent a flush to his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and searched for words. “It’s…uh…me ‘n Cas, we’re kinda…uh, mates…now.”  
“You’re kiddin’.” Benny’s eyes flew wide. “He downright humiliated you in front of everyone the first time he showed up!”  
“Yeah, well – “  
“Wait, you had sex with him?” Sam conjured up a Macbook with a little Gossip Girl grin.  
“Sam, put the damn laptop away!” Dean knew it was just an accessory to his brother’s photographic, angelic memory, but somehow it made everything more awkward.  
“Come on Dean, what was it like?” Sam smirked and Benny shot his brother a bemused look. “Was it messy like humans? I know they have, like, fluids and sweat and stuff that goes everywhere – “  
“Ok, just stop right there!” Dean dragged his hands across his face to hide his reaction to the memory of Cas’ Grace filling him up and pushing him over an edge where he couldn’t even remember his own name. “It was good, ok, it was fine. He liked it, I liked it, nothing much else to say.”  
“So, when am I gonna be an uncle?” Sam grinned and was ten seconds away from getting the slap.  
“You shut your piehole.” Dean glared at his little brother who just raised his smarmy eyebrows.  
“So – “ Benny began, but then Dean wasn’t paying attention anymore.  
  
A melody slammed through his veins, through his head. Its urgent tone ripped into him like a siren hungry for her dinner; he had to leave, he had to go to the source of that voice or else it felt as though his Grace would tear. The tune spoke of battle, urgency and the righteous violence of Heaven. His wings ached and flared with fire – they recognized Castiel’s voice and begged to leave, to see what his mate wanted with such need. Then he noticed Benny had faltered too, alert and listening.  
“What is it?” Sam frowned and looked between the pair of them.  
“It’s Castiel.” Benny’s face was grim and Dean panted from the exertion of not following the song.  
“He’s callin’ us to war. I – I – sorry pardner, I gotta go.”  
Benny vanished and Dean longed to follow.  
“To _war?_ ” Sam stood, shaken by their sudden reaction and Dean rose too.  
“I…I..I don’t entirely understand the song he’s singing, but…that’s what it feels like.” Dean struggled out.  
“It might be a drill?” Sam caught his shoulder as Dean bared his teeth and gave a grunt of pain. He needed to go. He needed to answer the song, or else his Grace might rip.  
“No. They’d never let even Cas do this for just a drill. Sorry Sam…” Dean spread his wings, which almost touched the opposite walls of the common room.  
“Then I’m coming too.” Before Dean could stop him, Sam latched on and they both reappeared in the empty assembly courtyard. Cas and Benny were there, and as soon as Dean appeared, the song in his head shut off, but that's not what got his attention. The Marshal of Heaven was bent over another angel, who lay on the ground. The bottom feathers of his blue-silver wings were melted and burned. Blood and sulphur covered his hands, chest and face and his Grace shone out of deep wounds that glowed with Castiel’s healing power, but only closed up so far. This angel hadn’t befallen an accident or a minor demonic duel. This angel was a battlefield casualty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Dean and Castiel's little impromptu honeymoon is gonna get shaken up! Thank you to all you wonderful people who've left such awesome reviews, I really appreciate that you take the time to write them - they make me smile and make my day, honestly, I wake up in the morning pumped to hear what you guy think! And if you enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to hear what you guys have to say too n.n Stay snazzy!


	13. Death Or Glory

“Balthazar, tell them what I told you.” Cas rose, jaw tight. Dean itched to stroke his hair, kiss his jawline and relax him, but now, in front of his brother, friend and a wounded soldier, wasn’t quite the time.  
“Oh yes, I’m bleeding on the ground and _I_ get to do the talking?” The sandy-haired angel gave a dramatic cough. “You really are the sweetest nurse, Cassy.”  
The younger angels stared at Balthazar in shock, and Cas sent him a dark side-eye.  
“I need to call the other angels, so unless you want me to waste more time…”  
A strange little feeling that wasn’t quite jealousy (but close) ran through Dean as he realized that Cas actually did have other friends. Of course he did, Dean. It would be weird if he didn’t.  
“Well fine, but if I die, I blame you.” Balthazar huffed and Cas rolled his eyes and began a Battle Assembly Call. Waves of that deep, gravelly voice washed over the younger angel, and it took all Dean had to pull himself out of the tingling pleasure of Cas’s voice and back to Balthazar.  
  
“The demons have opened a major Hell Gate – not a diddly little thing in a graveyard somewhere, but a Mt Vesuvius ordeal. They have the works; holy fire molotovs, invented by this genius – “ Balthazar pointed at Cas and twitched his melted wings. “ – angel traps, which allude to the disturbing conclusion that they’ve been studying Luci’s holiday home, angel-blade-bullet guns and basically an assload of demons. Castiel’s second in command, a brave but stupid angel, thought she could deal with the problem and managed to royally screw his entire command force. I mean, we haven’t lost yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”  
Balthazar sighed and students began to appear in the courtyard. From the looks of it, it seemed that Cas had hidden the five of them from view.  
“Well why are you telling us this?” Dean frowned. “Isn’t this a job for the big wigs, y’know, Raphael and the other archangels?”  
“No, because Raphael is a dick. Believe me, I tried calling him, and Mickey doesn’t take unsolicited calls.” Balthazar offered and seemed to love the sight of their faces. “The demons only seem intent on trapping angels – probably set on torturing them to discover more about the Creation Tablets and Luci’s Cage, or turning them to the Dark Side – and aren’t doing a full invasion. Plus Raphael sees Cassy here as a bit of competition and a non-archangelic stick in the side, even though he won’t admit it, and leaving Castiel’s regiments to get obliterated by demons would put a huge black mark on our trenchcoat-loving Marshal’s name. Isn’t that right?”  
Cas just sang and glared.  
  
Almost the whole Academy had assembled now, lines and lines of warriors in their regiments, angel blades from the Armoury at the ready. A shiver ran down Dean’s spine. Until today, he had never actually faced the fact that this was an army and that these angels he’d learned with and befriended could be about to fight and die for the cause of Heaven.  
“So Raphael has given an expressed order that the situation is hopeless and no battalion should waste angelic lives and help.” Even through his wit and sass, Balthazar’s face fell just slightly. “And no angel is mad enough to go against the command of an archangel – well, except for our dear darling Cassy.”  
“But – “ Sam’s face was a picture of confusion.  
“It’s politics, Jesus-Locks; angels die, humans die, but so long as the archangels stay happy, everything gets swept under the rug.” Balathazar gave a grimace of pain, and it struck Dean that even if the silver-winged angel survived his wounds, he might get obliterated for simply passing this information on to Castiel.  
  
Cas’s song fell silent and he turned to Dean. A shock of desire sparked through their eye contact, but this wasn’t the time. The older angel’s face hardened and Dean could see that this wasn’t a small deal. This was big. Even for Cas. “I will be going directly against the orders of Raphael to do what I am about to do and I need a second-in-command who can bear that burden with me and who I can trust.”  
“M…Me?” Dean just about gaped. “Aren’t there – “  
“Balthazar is injured, Uriel I can’t trust and besides no other angel will help me or they will try to stop me.” Cas’s eyes burned; not only was this a political compromise for him, but Dean would bet his wings that all of Cas’s friends were in his command force. “I realize – “  
“I’ll do it.” Where Cas went, Dean went too. The fires of Hell, the wrath of Michael himself… “What will you tell the Academy?”  
“I will tell them that the archangels have ordered we fight. I need their numbers but they cannot be held accountable for my actions.” Cas turned to look at Sam and Benny. “You two may leave if you wish.”  
“I go where Dean goes, sir.” Sam’s back straightened like a soldier called to attention, a motion he hadn’t done since dad had been around. Dean realized that where Benny still couldn’t hold Cas’s gaze, his brother met those blue eyes with determination. Again, Cas had been right; Sam was of the leading stock. Benny just nodded.  
“Thank you.” Then Cas swept out his wings and soared into the sky. The other angels peered at Dean, Sam and Benny gathered around the beaten and bloody Balthazar, but their attention didn’t last long.  
  
“Angels of the Academy of War,” Cas called, and the momentous tone in his voice made even Dean swallow. “Today is the day you decimate the ranks of Hell with righteous fire and prove yourselves to be true warriors of God. A Great Hellgate has opened and the archangels have commanded we destroy every last demon and pull the angels they have captured from the depths of Hell. There is no greater honour than to fight and even die in the name of Heaven and the conquest of evil.”  
For a moment even Dean wanted to believe Cas’s complete propaganda bullshit, but he didn’t need it to be inspired. Angels needed to be saved, Cas needed help and demons needed to be killed. Who cared about the righteous cause?  
“I shall lead you to victory, and the demons shall cower before the glory of Heaven. I have nominated Decanos as my second in command. He knows your qualities and skills and you will follow his orders as if they were my own.”  
  
A murmur ran through the crowd, but it seemed that every angel had heard of Dean’s atonement; in fact he had a feeling many of them believed _he_ had all but murdered Josephus and his gang and stopped the tyranny they’d started.  
“You choose him over me?” A voice turned heads and Uriel sped up into the sky, stiff with wrath. “I have billions of years of experience, I have taught these students for hundreds of years and you choose him?”  
Cas met his eyes, still and silent as a hunting cat. “Decanos is a brilliant warrior and I have seen fit to test him in the field. If you object to my decision, then you may stay out of this fight. Otherwise you too shall follow his command in my absence.”  
There was also the fact that Uriel’s favour of Josephus and their ways was no big secret among the students. Dean knew for a fact that half of his Combat Training class had resented him, which didn’t bode well for a position of command.  
Uriel’s lip twitched. “No. You have chosen him because he is your mate.”  
Another ripple ran through the angels, and Dean saw some expressions of horror and even revulsion. Balthazar, still slightly dying on the floor, cocked his head at Dean in surprise. Dean just kept his eyes affixed on the black winged angel above them as the lovebites on his neck burned heat up into his face. He wasn’t afraid of their judgement.  
“I saw the two of you engaging in acts too disgusting to describe. You are sinners!” Uriel shouted, but Cas’s face stayed as calm as always.  
“Uriel, we do not have time to explore your petty accusations. Angels are dying. Our brothers and sisters are dying. You accept my command and my decisions or you leave.”  
  
If Cas – and Uriel – had taught Dean anything, it was that lies, deception and political manipulation was crucial to being a high-ranking warrior. Until a few days ago, he’d thought it was just about killing what needed to be killed and saving what needed to be saved. Now…the road he was on was dangerous in more than just battle violence. Uriel couldn’t hold the Marshal’s gaze and his aura sparked with fury, but he turned and swooped back into line.  
“I’ll just carry on dying, don’t you guys worry about me.” Balthazar griped and Benny went over to give him another heal.  
_Dean, come to my side now._ Cas’s voice beckoned in his head. _You need to speak to them and confirm your authority and their trust._  
There was no time to argue, so Dean turned to Sam.  
“Sam, you stay safe, ok? You’re not a warrior anymore.” He pointed a finger at his brother “If you need me, I got your back you know that. Don’t you dare take on something you can’t handle.”  
Before Sam could reply, the older angel beat his wings and soared up to his mate’s side. Then he peered out over the sea of faces looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t Cas. He couldn’t cough up some political ‘mission of God’ bull. But he had to say something.  
“Some of you may hate me, and I can’t blame you for that. But Castiel has seen something in me that he believes is redeemable.” Dean looked down and tried to meet as many eyes as he could. “I will not fail him and I will not fail you. I will fight and if it comes to it, I will die for you and the other angels in this mess.”  
  
Dean suddenly felt so peaceful. That peace spread through his body, and it wasn’t just Cas’s close proximity that made his wings and body tingle. The feeling surged up his throat, and he flared his wings out, a massive imposing symbol against the sky of Heaven. Cas was a legend to keep himself facing forward and his expression blank. Then Dean’s voice – his true voice – leapt from his mouth. The sound filled him with determination, hope and above all, faith that they would succeed, that they were the arsenal of God and could destroy and save whatever needed to be destroyed or saved in the name of Heaven. It pulsed through his being like an extension of himself being projected outwards. Light vibrated through his being and Dean could feel his aura shine with joy and a sudden well of energy swirled like a vortex in his Grace. This was what he’d been born to sing, and it was a moment of pure epiphany to stand before those angels and call to their valour, to their courage and strength like a war-bell. Another voice joined his, a low and steady countermelody, but it lit the fire of battle in his veins and made him itch to kill, to smite everything that stood in his way. _Fury_ that’s what it was. Pure, righteous fury, but it wasn’t Cas’s true song; even though it was a Marshal of Heaven singing, Dean could tell the melody wasn’t as powerful as the extension of essence that poured from his own mouth. Not to say their voices fought - far from it.  
  
A throb of heat shot through the younger angel as it seemed as though even their songs tangled into one another and slotted together like the bodies of their creators had. The sensation crashed through him, it swelled with light and coaxed an even more intense refrain from Dean’s throat. One by one, all the angels below that could lifted their voices and built chords beneath the two melodies, until the entire courtyard rose and fell in a swath of the fearsome sound of hundreds of angels ready to smite all that stood in their way. When he looked down, all Dean could see were warriors, their wings spread in readiness, hope, determination and ferocity in their eyes. What neither Dean nor Sam nor even Balthazar realized was that Benny had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a pickle for poor Castiel! Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments on my work so far, you're all awesome! n.n As always, why not tell me what you think or drop some kudos if you like; I really love hearing what you guys have to say n.n


	14. To The Depths

The sky roared and flashed, black with thunder. A chasm yawned like the open mouth of a volcano in the ground, from which poured things with too many claws, eyes and teeth. The ground trembled as great chunks of dirt crumbled and pitched into its ever-widening maw. Flashes of holy fire split the darkness here and there, and the air clashed with the screams of both angels and demons as the last of Cas’s command fought tooth and nail. The army hung in the clouds above as the battlefield stretched out before them.  
“The demons dragged the cages down into that pit.” Balthazar lay bridal-style in Benny’s arms. Everyone had tried to stop him coming along, but he had simply grabbed Benny’s neck and wouldn’t let go. “They’ve buried fire mines in the ground and cage traps too.”  
Cas’s face shone white in the lightning, grim and drawn. “Dean, we need an archangel. Raphael will not listen, so Michael is our only hope. I fear there is more at work here than simple demons. If they can create cages to contain angels, then the next step is Lucifer’s Cage. This place needs to be smited into dust.”  
“I’ll go. I’ll go to Michael.” Dean turned, but Cas gripped his arm.  
“I need you here.” The Marshal looked to Sam. “Go.”  
“How – “  
“Find a way.” Cas growled and before Dean could protest against his brother going to butt heads with the King of Heaven, Sam vanished.  
“Cas – “  
“Dean, we don’t have time.” Cas’s jaw clenched and his eyes flared with a defiant fire that shot tingles down the younger angel’s body. Dean realized that he disliked the idea of sending Sam as much as he did. “I need five regiments to smash through the Gate of Hell and the Fleet Regiment to fly in and retrieve the cages. Warn the others about the traps, the fire and the angel-bullets.”  
Cas drew his angel blade, and Dean had to admit, he loved that commanding tone directed at him. In a very situationally inappropriate rush of heat, he called Herias.  
_Get your fastest fliers to the front with Castiel now. I am giving you command of the Fleet Regiment._  
  
The angels in the academy of War didn’t receive a rank until they graduated (to stop competition and malcontent), so there was no real chain of command apart from the teachers, and most of them were specialists in something like Flight or War Theory, and didn’t belong on the front line. But Cas was desperate, so he hoped that the angels would do as they’d been trained. Dean knew the respective circles and hoped he put the right people in charge as they received their orders.  
“Combat Regiments one to five, with Cas. It is your job to break the lines of Hell so that the Fleet Regiment can retrieve the cages. Illusionist Regiment, get them as close as you can to the Gate without being seen. Combat Regiment six to ten, smite all demons outside the Gate, save as many angels as you can, and if Castiel’s command group need reinforcements, cyclical hoplite warfare manoeuvre.” Dean barked. “Stay off the ground as much as possible; there are holy fire mines and cage traps. Some of the demons have angel-killing guns, so keep a sharp eye.”  
He and turned back to Cas as the angels fell into place without question.  
“I’m coming with you.”  
“No, Dean.” Cas’s eyes flashed as he gripped his angel blade.  
“Cas – “ Dean’s Grace ached with a pain worse than anything physical when the thought flashed through his head that Cas might not survive this.  
“If something goes wrong, I need someone on the outside who the angels will follow. I need you to stop the demons cutting us off.” Cas pressed his shoulder against Dean’s and warm fingers squeezed the side of his hand. “I know you won’t fail me.”  
  
Dean shot him a little smile and drew his own angel blade. Cas turned to the angel who Dean had appointed the leader of the Illusionists.  
“Get us as far as you can. Dean, attack when we are through. Split the outside forces from those within and slaughter them.” They shared a nod, and the Marshal sent a silent call to arms to all those angels with him on the Hell run. The warriors arranged themselves in the appropriate layers: The Illusionists surrounded the very outside, ready to disguise the inner troops and fall back to Dean when their job was done. Then came the moving rings of the Combat Regiments around the core of swift fliers. It was a complicated manoeuvre, but not one they hadn’t done before. Cas tilted his black wings in a sign for every angel to ready themselves for the dive, and then the Marshal of Heaven flared his feathers and the battalions of angels plunged towards Hell.

***

 _Charlie! Charlie!_ Sam streaked through the Coding Building in the Academy of Lore and stop-slid at the sight of auburn wings through a classroom door window. He backpedalled to the door and yanked it open. If he asked a teacher or an older angel to hack into the personal space of Michael himself, they’d either report him or tell him he was crazy. Well, they’d be right. This was insane. But desperate times called for desperate acts. From what Cas said about the archangels, he didn’t have many options, but maybe Charlie would cash in that favour she owed them. The whole class turned from their discussion to stare at him as he burst into the room in an explosion of fantastic hair, long legs and the angel blade he still carried.  
“Excuse me – “ The teacher started forward, eyeing his sword, but Sam didn’t have time. He all but tackled Charlie, flapped his grey wings and reappeared in the common room.  
“Sam, what – “ The ginger angel sputtered out as he climbed off her.  
“Charlie, you have to listen to me.” He held up the hand not equipped with angel-killing material. “I need to get into Michael’s space.”  
He didn’t know for sure whether Michael would be there, but it was his best shot. Rumour went that nobody used the throne unless Heaven was at war and nobody ever saw him around Heaven, so where else would he be?  
“ _What?!_ You’re crazy!” Charlie stared at him with wide eyes. “I can’t do that!”  
“Charlie, angels are dying! We need to talk to Michael directly, and if we go anywhere else, Raphael will hear it first and Dean, Castiel, Benny, they’ll all die!” Sam threw in the puppy-dog eyes for good measure and hoped they were all still alright. “They’re fighting a battle right now that’s too big for them and Raphael has forbade any angel to help. Please Charlie!”  
She eyed him for a moment, but Sam thanked his great genetics for his puppy eyes, which seemed to have prevailed. “Alright. I owe Dean one – or two. Fly me to the coding labs, I’ll see what I can do.”

  
A whirlwind of chaos screeched around Dean. To his right, bodies of angels and demons littered the ground about the maw of the Gate; Cas’s plan had worked so far – thanks to the Illusionist angels, they’d taken the demons by surprise and damaged their line enough for several Combat Regiments and the Fleet Regiment to make it through. Screams and howls echoed in a horrendous cacophony from inside the pit, and Dean just prayed to the Almighty G-dude that none of them were Cas in pain. A dome of angels arced over the Gate to stop the outside demons surrounding the exit. The air was a mess of flashing blue-white and red in the deep black and a fiery _boom_ thundered on his ears as some angel or demon set off a holy fire trap. Dean swept through, orders streaming from his head to the other regiments on a field. Then something smashed him in the side. It had ram’s horns, pupil-less red eyes and a circular mouth full of needle-like teeth, but Dean speared it with his wing and thrust his blade into its back. Red sizzled inside it, and it went limp. Another demon latched onto his arm, but he punched it in the boil-covered face with a sound Dean made a disgusted face at, and speared it through its throat.  
“Damn demons are so gross.” He wrinkled his nose and flicked the stuff off his hand. Why did he have to get the puss-covered one? A shiver of movement behind him tingled through his inappropriately-sensitive wings, and Dean threw himself down onto the ground in a neat roll. He then turned to see…Uriel.  
“You’re gonna pay for what you did to me, you little whore.” The dark angel’s eyes seared with hatred. “One more dead angel on the battlefield isn’t going to raise any awkward questions. And when you’re gone, I’ll take command and I’ll get the promotion.”  
  
He slashed toward Dean who parried and punched him in the face. Blood sprayed from the tutor’s nose and his eyes burned with hatred.  
“What the Hell did I ever do to you?” It was Dean that should be angry! Uriel had tricked him, taken advantage of his wrecked state, used him and turned him into dumbed-down, nasty piece of work. Dean jerked backwards as the older angel’s blade whooshed past and sliced a thin cut across his chest. He came in with a stomach-thrust, but Uriel’s blade slid along his and twisted it straight out of Dean’s hand.  
“You went and whined to Castiel, you made me look like an idiot in front of him and the rest of the new warriors!” Uriel snarled and Dean dodged his blade, but the tutor’s hand snapped back and clubbed him in the temple with the butt of the sword. His vision swam for a moment, and it was only pure instinct that allowed him to grab Uriel’s arm and twist himself around it as the older angel tried to stick him through the stomach. Uriel yanked Dean’s hand upwards and the popping snap of his forearm echoed through Dean’s essence and he stumbled. Blood dripped down his cheek and chest and he knew his arm was useless unless the unlikely occasion arose that the Combat tutor would give him a chance to heal.  
  
“I’ll never be promoted out of that dump of an Academy!” Uriel rammed his fist into Dean’s jaw and the younger angel saw stars, but he still didn’t fall. Yeah, Uriel was really good – he kept his wings out of reach and knew how Dean fought from years of watching him.  
“Well boo-hoo. Maybe you shouldn’t’ve been such a frickin asshole!” Dean ducked under a demon that flew out of the darkness from another fight, but Uriel just sliced through the bug-eyed creature as though it were butter.  
“I was trying to do what was best – “  
“You were getting off on your little power-trip, that’s what you were doing!” Dean growled and tried to stoop to the knife on his calf without the other angel noticing. Uriel’s face twisted in rage, and he grabbed Dean by the collar before he could get it. Ooh, that had hit a nerve.  
“And why should I listen to you, you little cock-sucking slut?” Uriel raised his angel blade to Dean’s throat. Whoops. So that was what he’d seen them doing. Dean braced himself for the point to impale his head, but flinched something awful when Uriel jerked. White-blue light beamed from his eyes and throat, and the tip of an angel blade scratched Dean’s already bloody chest as it emerged from the tutor. The mad thought ran through Dean’s woozy head that Cas had somehow flown out the pit and shivved Uriel, but as the angel dropped and his wings burned an imprint into the ground, the grizzled form of Benny swam before Dean’s view.  
  
“Benny?” Dean raised his eyebrows in disbelief as the other angel reached toward him with hands lit by healing fire. “How did you…?”  
“While y’all were singing at the Academy,” Benny handed Dean Uriel’s angel blade, and the tawny angel turned about and caught the demon that hand been trying to sneak up on them with a smiting palm. “I don’ know, the janitor appeared, me n’ him all invisible, and he said for me to keep an eye on Uriel. That he’d try to kill you.”  
“You cut it a bit close!” Dean caught the hand of a spasming angel on the ground, gave them a heal and called a trainee medic.  
“Well I had to drop Balthazar somewhere.” Benny shrugged and a frown creased his forehead. “Hey, why do we even have a janitor? I mean, we can clear up any messes we like.”  
  
Dean stopped for a second, mouth half open, but didn’t get time to muse any longer; the Gate exploded behind them. Four angels with a cage full of other warriors sped out of Hell like a supersonic bullet, flanked by Combat troops who kept the demons at bay. As soon as they were out, the hellspawn shot to them like magnets.  
“Defend the Cages!” Dean roared, and his ground troops swept up toward the hordes of Hell. There were hundreds of angels. But thousands of demons swirled out of the gate; Hell was putting its best foot forward here, while Heaven had a school-full of inexperienced angels, no archangels and about fifty wounded veterans still on their feet from Cas’ regiments. The angels in the cages were alive, but helpless. How Cas’ contingent had pulled them from Hell in the first place, Dean put down to a Biblical miracle; if Sam failed, the hundreds of angels in the cages would be dragged back down and Dean would have to call retreat.  
Another cage followed, and another and a fourth, but Dean couldn’t pick out Cas’s black wings amongst those coming out. The sixth cage broke loose, with Herias bringing up the rear. Now it was a battle in the skies. If one angel fell from their place carrying a cage, another swooped in to fill the space, but there were so many demons that they couldn’t even make the flight to Heaven.  
_Herias, report!_ Dean yelled, and the angel reappeared in front of him. Blood and sulphur soaked them, but Grace burned brightly in those hazel eyes.  
“All cages have been retrieved, but we don’t have the power to smite it shut.” Herias’ eyes shifted to the slow trickle of angels that followed the cages out of Hell as Dean’s regiment tried to beat open a gap to let them through. “We lost many, and – “  
“Where’s Castiel.” A horrid tug wrenched at his gut.  
“He…He stayed in the pit to hold them off. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have made it out at all. Last I saw, he was covered in demons. Dean…” Herias struggled, and Dean felt deep in his Grace that the angel believed Castiel was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all your awesome comments and kudos! :D I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter n.n


	15. The Anthem of the Archangels

The Coding Room had a sign ‘Closed for Cleaning’ on it, but Sam wrenched it open anyway. He swore he saw a flash of laser lights and piles of cake, but when the millisecond passed the only thing other than coding panels in the room was the janitor and his trolley. The short, mousey-haired angel munched on a Crunchie as he mopped the floor.  
“Careful, it’s wet.” He winked through a mouthful of chocolate, but Sam didn’t have time to reply.  
“Can you do it?” He asked Charlie in a hushed voice, and the ginger angel pulled up a panel. Lines of Enochian code flew past on the screen, and he saw the name ‘Michael’ flash by. The text burned and hissed, but Charlie soldiered on, fingers conjuring symbols in a blur. Beside them, a small, rectangular space opened up, but electricity ran down it in sheets. The power that emanated from that tunnel told Sam that one touch would disintegrate him. The panel began to shake and split, and the room trembled.  
“Even if we don’t get through, we might get his attention.” Charlie’s voice was thin, and quavered as the lines of symbols tried to wrap around her arms. She stabbed in a few more letters and they lashed back into the screen.  
  
Plaster crumbled from the ceiling, and the text burned so white hot in Sam’s brain that he didn’t know how Charlie could keep reading. Her wings trembled and her fingers were charred black from where she touched the text.  
“I – I can’t get it all the way, Sam!” Her fingers flew and hissed with smoke as they wrote in a counter-text to the code that was writing an attack on her itself. Cracks split the floor, but the electric sparks inside the tunnel had vanished to all but the furthest point Sam could see.  
“We need to save them, Charlie! Come on, I know you can do it!” He yelled over the thunderous rumble. Charlie had to do it. She was their only hope. Sam tried to scan the code, but it wracked his eyes with spikes of pain. Charlie bared her teeth and her whole being glowed white. Letters and symbols flew from her finger-tips. Sam stood back in awe. Wow. He was not ever going to mess with her.  
“Nothing can hold you back, Charlie.” She ground to herself. “You’re better than the teachers, you’re the best. You can do it.”  
Blood ran from her eyes and ears, but she kept throwing out Enochian symbols. Other panels pitched over and the windows exploded outwards. Sam gripped the table to stop himself tumbling to the floor as his essence screamed at him to stop her. Then everything went blue and slowed down. The text broke and the black, rectangular tunnel went dead, now just an access chute. Charlie gave a whoop of delight and punched the air.  
“Take that Naomi!”  
“Tut tut tut, looks like _you_ just hacked Michael.” The janitor stood behind them, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Naughty. I should really scream bloody murder.”  
  
Sam couldn’t think of anything to excuse them, and this guy was just a janitor anyway, so what the Hell.  
“A major Hellgate has opened and Raphael won’t help our friends fight them. The demons have technology similar to Lucifer’s Cage but we don’t have the power to smite the sight. We have to get to Michael.” Sam blurted out as Charlie tried in vain to stop her bleeding eyes.  
“Sam…” The tone of her voice was horribly wrong. Charlie held up her fingers, and they began to crumble. It seemed Michael’s failsafe had a backup protection.  
“No no no no!” Sam reached forward with all the healing power he could muster, but it did nothing; whatever this was, it was more powerful than his Grace. A tight ball of guilt and grief rose to his throat. Charlie was going to die and it was his fault. He should never have –  
“Ooh, that’ll sting.” The janitor bared his teeth in mock pain, then reached forward and tapped her nose. “Boop.”  
Charlie shone for a moment and when the glow faded even her wing was healed.  
“How did you do that?” Charlie gasped and Sam looked at the janitor in awe.  
“Oh, y’know, being a janitor around here for as many years as I have, you learn a few things. And I love a lady who can pop Michael’s cherry.” The short angel waggled his eyebrows and passed Sam, who felt that last statement was vaguely inappropriate, an envelope. “If Michael gets all pissy, give him that.”  
What the? Sam looked down at it, but it seemed like an ordinary cream envelope emblazoned with ‘To Michael’ in curly pink script. The ‘i’ in Michael was dotted with a loveheart.  
“What – “ Sam looked up to the janitor, face twisted in extreme confusion, but he was gone. Charlie shrugged at him and made to enter the opening.  
“No, Charlie, you’re not coming.” Sam wanted at least one of his friends to come out of this alive.  
“Like hell I’m not! Sam, I’m in this now whether you like it or not.” She pushed into the space and Sam threw up his hands. They were all going to die. Hallelujah.

The tunnel emerged out onto a sun-washed lawn. Then Sam knew that they were definitely going to die. There, utterly naked with his huge, white archangel wings stretched out on the grass was the King of Heaven. Someone was giving the archangel a pedicure, and another servant massaged his…well, kinda weedy chest. Wow, Sam had expected someone like…well more like Dean.  
“Uh…ahem.” Sam coughed and exchanged a glance with Charlie.  
“How _dare_ you?” Every particle of Sam’s being vibrated, and he had to cover his ears. Charlie fell to her knees, hands on her ears too. Michael was suddenly fully clothed and shone before them, his great wings flared in such anger that almost made Sam cower. But he had a job. They were relying on him. A fire burned in Sam’s belly and behind his eyes, so he focussed on it, braced himself and lifted his head to meet the King of Heaven’s eyes.  
“A Major Hellgate has opened. The demons have captured hundreds of angels for torture and interrogation in Cages similar to Lucifer’s. Raphael will not help and if we – you – don’t save the command forces down there, who knows what the demons will find. We know for a fact that Crowley knows how to break down angels to code.” Blood dripped out of his nose and his head pulsed from just holding the King’s gaze, but he didn’t back down.  
“And you broke into my space?” Michael turned his rage on Charlie who rocked on her knees, nose pouring blood. Sam took a deep breath, prepared himself for obliteration and stepped between the archangel and his friend, wings shielding her from view.  
“Didn’t you hear what I said? We have to go _now!”_ Sam yelled and held his wings steady. It was almost funny that Michael was a few inches shorter than him, but those huge white wings could slice him down to size in a millisecond.  
  
The archangel’s eyes burned with holy rage, and Sam cried out as his molecules sizzled and he fell to his knees. This must count as Michael getting pissy.  
“Wait!” In a last defence, he blindly thrust out the janitor’s letter. The pain stopped, and the letter was ripped from his hand. Sam lifted his gaze to see Michael’s face crease in confusion, then smooth out into a very, very done expression. He rolled his eyes and looked back to Sam. What…what had the janitor put in that letter?? That would throw _Michael_ for a loop?  
“Where did you get this?” The archangel deadpanned.  
“Uh…the…janitor gave it to me?” He winced and met Michael’s gaze again.  
“The janitor.” Michael sighed.  
“Yeah the…guy who cleans the Academies.” Sam raised his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Charlie. Michael looked like he wanted to stab himself in the face from sheer being done with life.  
“Why is he like this? I can’t _unsee_ that.” The King of Heaven dropped the paper on the ground and Sam got a glimpse of its contents before it burst into flames: there was a picture of the janitor, buck naked, ass bent over an Earth school desk, with a fake black moustache plastered across his upper lip. The text read (in curly pink writing) ‘Beat this sweet ass to the Hell Gate if you can, big bro ;)'. Sam lifted his befuddled expression to the archangel in the hope of an explanation, but Michael just sighed.  
“Take me to the battle.”

 

“No! No!” Dean thrashed against Herias and Benny as he tried to fly toward the Hell Gate. His elbow struck Benny’s sternum with a sick thud, but his friend didn’t let go.  
“Dean, we need you!” The grim angel growled. “These angels don’t have head nor tail of command and neither do I, we’re not wired that way! But you are and you gotta pull your head in and be damn professional!”  
Holy fire lit up Dean’s eyes as his Grace screamed within him. It tore at his chest and scalded his throat as it thrust to the front of his body, clawing at a way to get to Cas. His wings clubbed the two angels, and Herias flew sideways. Benny hung on for dear life like a cowboy on a mad bull. This madness was like the one to mate; wild, bestial need to tear Hell apart and find his black-winged angel. He couldn’t hear the battle above him, nor Benny yells, only the shriek of his panicked Grace as it boiled within him.  
“Dean – “ Benny’s fingers slipped off him, but at the same moment, Dean’s hearing popped back into reality at the sound in his head, in his being. The demons froze in surprise for a moment, and one of the angelic cages broke free and vanished into Heaven. A piercing keen, a terrible melody shattered the air, and some of the hellspawn covered their ears in fear, but Dean’s Grace leapt for joy as it realized that the sound didn’t emanate from the Heavens, but from the pit of Hell. Castiel.  
“No.” A First Generation angel a few feet in front of Dean murmured, her eyes wide. “No, not that song.”  
  
Like a rock thrown from the exploding crater of a volcano, Cas streaked out of the Hell Gate through the chaos above, sound pouring from his throat. The melody was pure to Dean, but it sent the demons into a panicked frenzy; they scratched at their eyes and ears, shivered, screeched and spread in all directions. Creatures of Hell tumbled off Cas, as the slipstream of his speed ripped their arms from their sockets. The Marshal’s hand gripped the auburn-red hair of a huge demon, and she screamed and thrashed as they spun into the sky; her bat-like wings clawed at the angel’s legs and her talons ripped at the sleeves of his trenchcoat. The thing's aura shone red and white with power –Cas had yanked a Knight of Hell up with him; the leader of these demons. Holy crap. That was beyond sexy. Dean couldn’t see the original colour of Cas’s skin and clothes – they were coated in blood, char, goo, sulphur, feathers and Grace – but his whole being pulsed with dangerous bright light to the notes of his song. A sheet of lightning illuminated the silhouette of his wings, and all of a sudden Dean’s memory of all those years ago slammed back into him and the realization almost made his knees collapse.Those wings. The…it was same angel. All those years ago Cas had heard his call and saved his life.  
  
Dean stood a moment, dazed. All along. It had been Castiel all along. A _Marshal of Heaven,_ had come to save him...it almost sounded ridiculous, but the wings were a perfect match in his photographic recollection. No wonder that memory had stuck with him with such strength over the years – not because it had been his first demon or the great shame of defeat... his Grace had known its mate, but had been to under-developed to act on it. His mate that had now burst from Hell against all odds, covered in blood with a Knight of Hell in one hand and his sword in the other. Dean didn’t think even Michael could top that entrance. Warmth swelled within the tawny angel and affection and pride tumbled over itself.  
  
“No, the Dirge of Dread is meant for archangels alone!” The flightless angel in front of Dean cried. “He won’t survive it. He can’t survive it!”  
Dean turned back to the duel with horror and his Grace reared like a flaming horse within him. Cas knew he would die. But Cas also knew that hundreds of angels would be saved in his place. No angel would dare join in his song; Dean didn’t even think he could. Even within his army, Cas was alone.   
  
Red lightning smashed through the air, and the battle of the two commanders whirled like a flaming hurricane. The Marshal of Heaven was a blur of black feathers and light too bright for his rank and the Knight burned with red flames as they moved faster than mortal eyes could have seen. Dean knew it was no fair fight for the older angel; it was impossible to tell how many injuries he’d sustained in Hell, and the song was tearing his Grace apart. Cas’s strong voice still rang out through the darkness, yet the demons had recovered from their initial shock. Dean thanked his lucky stars that in their panic, four out of six cages had made it to safety, and now their ranks were in disarray.  
_Regiment six, surround the cage furthest from Hell, Regiments seven and eight, follow Benny to the second cage and do the same. Get them out of here before Castiel’s song ends._ Dean ordered and didn’t even wait to see if they obeyed. He turned toward Cas and the Knight in the sky and beat his huge wings.  
  
“Hey you bitch!” Dean yelled and called the lightning from the roiling clouds to strike her. He knew it wouldn’t even scratch her leathery wings, but Cas needed a break. She gave a hiss and swerved to keep both angels in her sight.  
_Dean, go!_ Cas’s voice was wrecked, raw and broken, and it tore through Dean’s Grace like a physical wound. His body shone too brightly, and his aura felt nuclear. No. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t let Cas die, but how could he stop it? With a growl, he launched himself at the Knight of Hell. She dropped below him and began to chant an angel-paralysis spell, which Dean only recognized from when Sam had practised it on him for a Lore project. His limbs began to seize, and Cas suddenly tilted his head skyward, practically a supernova at this point.  
Then everything exploded in a burst of sheer power as the Marshal of Heaven dropped like a stone toward Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Been crazy busy, but here it is c: Good old Gabriel and Charlie, and some badass Sam to top it off ay :P And don't worry, that's not the last we hear of Dean's rescue epiphany c: Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, why not tell me what you think or even leave some kudos? n.n Thank you to everyone who has left awesome comments (they really make my day!) and given this fic kudos too, you're all epic. Thinking about starting a new fanfic soon too, so watch this space c: Love ya all!


	16. And At Last I See The Light

“Cas! Cas, can you hear me?”  
Castiel saw nothing but white pinpricks in a black void. Sound spun around him like a warped whirlpool that sucked at his ears and rushed through his essence. His Grace throbbed and twitched, tender and burned from the Dirge of Dread.  
“Cas? Hey, we need a healer…or something! Now!”  
Something warm hooked under Castiel’s body, and the sensation of movement spun around him. His inner throat seared, as though every layer of skin had been sliced off, and lesser wounds pricked every other inch of his body. The taste of blood came to Castiel next, blood, sulphur and the tinge of his burnt Grace. He couldn’t even moan in pain; he couldn’t move, trapped deep inside some sort of conscious coma. His eyes were gunked shut with blood and God knew what else, but he couldn’t open them anyway. Scent was what he took comfort in. Over the tang of iron and sulphur and the ozone of the battlefield, he could smell the warm, earthy scent of Dean. Dean was here. Dean was carrying him to Heaven. They’d survived. Sam had…he lapsed into the void again as his mate shouted his name.

“Heal him, damnit!”  
The coarse yell brought Castiel back from the void’s edge, after an amount of time he couldn’t calculate. He was a blind consciousness in a shell. A tired, blind consciousness that didn’t know how to exist or how to cease existing.  
“I should turn you all to dust on the spot! You disobeyed my orders! My direct orders!”  
The sound and anger swirled in a blender through his head. Castiel didn’t know whether he was listening to several conversations over different periods of time or one in the same period of time. He wanted to see…  
“They saved our lives, they saved all our lives.” A British accent intervened. “Without Castiel we would have lost hundreds of angels – “  
Sound lapsed again, and the pinpricks in the void became brighter.  
  
“Cas! Cas!” A voice he knew broke, but how long it had been, the angel had no idea. “Cas come back to me please! Michael will heal you, we’ll get Michael to heal you, everything will be ok…”  
A touch crumbled some dried blood on Castiel’s face, and his Grace flickered like a doomed fire. He was dying, Castiel realized. Caught between life and death, but unable to go either way. He clung onto the timbre of Dean’s voice, the sensation of his fingertips and reached out to the younger angel’s mind. There was no coherency in the action; he just wanted to see if Dean was well.  
“Cas? Cas!” Dean’s essence vibrated in distress. He wasn’t well at all. Dean was hurting. “I can feel him in my head, he’s alive, damnit Michael!”  
Words turned into a murmur, and Castiel fell away from Dean’s mind again. Was this what he would live on as? Half-in, half-out of a conscious state, jumping from one disconnected moment to the next forever? He stared into the void and lost himself. He couldn’t see. All he wanted to do was see. The void shrank back, further and further away until it was but a black pinhead on a canvas of white. The angel turned about and a stark glare filled his vision, lit up every atom of his existence with a cleansing fire and ripped his eyes open.  
  
Castiel’s chest puffed into life as he gulped down air – he didn’t need to breathe, he may not have been breathing for hours, but it was the first response that came to him. The angel’s big blue eyes flitted back and forth across his scope of vision, everything blurred for a second and then…  
“Cas? Cas!” Dean’s nose buried itself in Castiel’s drenched trenchcoat as the younger angel pulled him into his arms. The Third Marshal of Heaven had been lying on the floor of what appeared to be the Council Chamber of Heaven. Dean knelt beside him, all but squeezing him back to death, while Sam, Charlie, Balthazar and Benny stood behind the tawny angel in a concerned semicircle. To Castiel’s right stood a pair of sour archangels, but he ignored them and ran a gentle hand down to the small of Dean’s back.  
“Wh – “ Castiel broke off into a bout of choked coughs as his throat seared. The dried matter that covered him cracked and tugged at his hairs as he moved. A holy water cleanse bath would be ideal right now. Possibly with Dean. Definitely with Dean.  
“Hey, hey Cas…” Dean ran a soothing hand over the older angel’s temple and Castiel’s raw and tender Grace quivered for his attention. The older angel tried again as he stared into those green eyes.  
_What happened?_ He addressed the question to everyone, but didn’t let his gaze stray from Dean and his glad smile. Worn fingers teased a glob of something Castiel would rather not think about from his hair.  
“Sam managed to convince Michael to help us, Cas. He smote the Hell Gate and took up your song. We got all the cages out and the demons went down extra crispy.” Dean’s smile brimmed with happiness, and Castiel got the feeling that it wasn’t just because of their victory. Raphael, a tall, fearsome archangel with the typical great white wings, turned up his nose in the background as his aura burned with rage.  
“You defied a direct order from me, Castiel.” The Second Marshal of Heaven spat. “You risked _all_ of our new warriors for a case of personal pride. You’re only alive, because by some miracle _Gabriel_ helped you undermine me.”  
  
What? True, in the Second Holy War Castiel had met the missing archangel and they’d worked together, but he’d never told anyone about that on Gabriel’s command. Gabriel was…troublesome, and he’d never expected to hear of him returned to Heaven.  
“Then maybe you should have helped, asshole!” Dean snarled back, and Castiel clutched his side in a warning. “If Cas here could all but defeat them with an army of green sticks and walking wounded, then you with your archangel powers and – and the _garrison of Heaven_ could’ve done the same!”  
Raphael strode forward, and Castiel tensed to throw Dean where the black-winged angel could get between them, but Michael caught his brother’s shoulder.  
“No, Raphael, he’s right.” The King of Heaven’s lips pressed tight for a moment and then he sighed. “This was more dangerous than we anticipated and Castiel’s judgement, although nearing blasphemic disobedience, did save a great many of our brothers and sisters and may have set back or destroyed a plan to break Lucifer free.”  
Michael paced and his eyes travelled over the group. “I will not reward you all for your bravery, or punish you for your defiance. You are free to go, and we shall put this matter behind us all.”  
Raphael met Castiel’s gaze, and it simmered with malcontent, but it was to be expected; he’d thwarted the archangel’s plan to tear down his reputation. So the Third Marshal held his superior’s gaze until Michael spoke again.  
“Now I must question Naomi about a certain janitor in her employ and tighten the security on my space. Raphael, oversee the opening of those cages.” The King of Heaven turned, spread his archangel-white wings and vanished in a crackle of ozone. Raphael left a second later, face still tight with displeasure.

As soon as they were gone, Castiel relaxed and laid his head back on Dean’s shoulder.  
“Hey, hey are you alright?” The younger angel bent over him, eyes full of concern.  
“Yes, that was quite some stunt you pulled back there, you brazen idiot.” A newly healed Balthazar added with his usual snarky fondness. Castiel just nodded, and Dean reached a healing hand towards his throat. It seemed Michael had wanted him to suffer just a little bit for his impudence (for both disobeying Raphael and singing a song meant expressly for archangels) – his throat would need to be healed several times a day for at least a month until it fully recovered.  
“Gabriel?” He managed out and tilted his head into Dean’s hand, which had lingered up his goo-encrusted neck to his equally coated jaw. Castiel didn’t even have the energy to wish himself clean.  
“Yeah, apparently he was the _janitor_.” Sam’s head pulled back with disbelief and his auburn-winged friend shrugged. “I mean I never really thought about how…well, why would we need a janitor?”  
“He told me about Uriel tryin’ to kill Dean too.” Benny put in and Castiel snapped his eyes between Dean and his friend.  
“What?” He started to get up, but Dean stroked his chest with a firm hand.  
“Uriel didn’t make it, did he Benny?” Dean shared a glance with the metallic-winged angel, who nodded. So they’d killed Uriel. No great loss.  
“Lots of angels didn’t make it.” Balthazar met his gaze and Castiel wondered how many friends had died, and how many young angels had been cut to shreds in the dark stench of Hell. “But what do you expect when you sign up for War Academy? Picnics and Pinot Noir on the beach?”  
Castiel’s eyes crawled back to Sam. “How did you convince Michael?”  
The tall angel put a proud hand on the shoulder of the red-headed female angel who stood beside him. “Meet the best hacker in all of Heaven! Charlie broke into Michael’s space and we found him – though if Gabriel hadn’t helped us with Michael, we probably would be dust by now.”  
  
Castiel didn’t want to know what Gabriel’s help constituted as. He knew that inappropriate archangel well enough and hadn’t missed the disturbed expression on Michael’s face as he’d mentioned ‘the janitor’ to know that porn had probably been involved. Why Gabriel. Why.  
“And I would have been killed by Michael’s backup security.” Charlie offered with a smile. From Dean’s confirmatory face, it seemed that they’d already told their escapade while Castiel had been out for the count, but none of them really understood the gravity of what they’d done. Charlie had incredible skill it seemed, but too incredible. He wouldn’t be surprised if she ‘disappeared’ sometime in the near future; Gabriel’s favours would not be respected forever, and Castiel knew the flighty archangel would not hang around to ensure her safety.  
“Charlie, I would like to extend an invitation to join my command force.” He held her eyes as long as she could handle as Charlie just about choked on surprise. “I suggest you accept the offer and the protection it provides.”  
  
Balthazar caught his eye and Dean looked between the two of them, green gaze sharp with understanding. Under Castiel’s employ there was less of a chance of her being surreptitiously removed. Castiel found himself drawn back to those pretty eyes, and a prickle of heat danced down his shoulders and back. It wasn’t until Balthazar cleared his throat that Castiel realized he and Dean were caught up in staring at each other.  
“Charlie, my dear, why don’t we go somewhere less overbearing and discuss Cassy’s little offer a bit further.” Balthazar gestured with distaste at the soaring golden arches and bright white marble of the Council Chambers. “Jesus locks and your strong and silent friend are invited too if you care to join a little celebratory tipple; I hope you like Scotch and canapés.”  
“I…” Sam turned back to Dean, as if asking for permission to leave his brother. Like a soldier requesting his commander to leave the battlefield. Benny’s silent eyes echoed the question, but as promising as the display of loyalty to Dean was, Castiel prayed they’d go with Balthazar. He wanted nothing more than to haul the tawny angel back to his space and indulge in some celebratory activity themselves. A spark of renewed energy zapped through his Grace at the thought of unclothed Dean, pliable and helpless with pleasure in his arms. Castiel slid his wings a little closer to Dean and ran a blood-encrusted finger down the inside seam of his lover’s jeans – at this angle the other angels couldn’t see it. The younger angel’s spine curved just enough to be of notice, and Dean gave Sam a stiff nod to match the stiffness Castiel could feel growing beneath his fingertips.  
“I’ll look after Cas for a while.” The breathiness and gravel in Dean’s voice shot a swath of heat through Castiel’s wings, and he didn’t even care about Balthazar’s knowing eyebrows. The Marshal of Heaven had been burned, stabbed, scratched, bitten, covered in all the wrong kinds of angelic, demonic and human substances, had his throat and Grace all but shredded, had fallen from the sky and had been comatosed all in a matter of hours. He deserved some time to recuperate, and so did Dean. It seemed from Sam’s smug face and Dean’s mutinous glare that the two brothers had shared a private little exchange, but then the others turned and disappeared with Balthazar.  
  
“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” Dean raised a hand, but as always, Castiel was quicker on the draw. He fisted a hand into the younger angel’s shirt, gave a flap of his wings and they reappeared back in Castiel’s space.  
“Wow.” Dean’s eyes flew wide as he took in the room. A huge, azure-blue rock pool delved into grey-marbled stone beside them, three wing-spans wide in a rough oval. Above it floated a long boulder from which a sheen of water fell with a silken tinkle into the pool below. The walls spiralled upwards in quartz, but the roof opened up in a square hole to the sky. It struck Castiel that, being a rankless angel, Dean had never seen a Purifying Basin before; a bath of pure archangel-sanctified holy water, not the polluted, chlorinated, human-created stuff from Earth. They did more than just wash off dirt; Purifying Basins soothed Grace, helped heal any maladies and encouraged the production of healthy oils in angel wings. True, they would boil a human alive and melt a demon, but apart from using the water as acid on the odd occasion (but sparingly, because although the water cleaned itself, there was a limited amount), neither of those issues had arisen.  
“Is this more appropriate?” Castiel had managed to land on his feet, but still had his fingers entangled in Dean’s shirt. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on his mate’s green gaze. A pulse throbbed through him as Dean unintentionally licked his lips, and his dick decided he didn’t have time to be tired any more. Dean’s breath whispered against Castiel’s caked cheeks, fast and hot. His young wings trembled and spread under the older angel’s gaze. They fluttered and begged Castiel to take Dean, to fuck him, to claim him again, and Castiel’s wings crackled with dried blood as they arced out in a definitive yes. His cock pressed hard against the seam of his trousers and he reached a hand out to stroke those brown-speckled feathers.  
“Not till you’re clean.” Dean’s voice teased and he shifted his wing just out of Castiel’s reach. A warm hand tugged at his tie until it fell to the floor. Castiel clenched his jaw as Dean’s fingers trailed down his shirt, flipping open buttons on the way. They left clean tracks along Castiel’s drenched skin, tracks that sent sparks shuddering up the older angel’s wing-shoulders and out to his lower feathers. Now it was Castiel’s breath that came laboured, and heat throbbed through his groin as his cock begged to be satisfied inside the heat of the younger angel.  
  
“Dean…” Castiel closed his eyes as those fingers danced down his stomach muscles, over the defined V of his hips, and his skin rippled as they grazed the strip just above his belt. Dean panted and pressed a clean shaven cheek warm against Castiel’s shaded, flaking one. Wherever the other angel touched, clean lines showed through, and his Grace all but purred at the thought of the paths of Dean’s fingers on his body.  
“Mmm, Dean…” Castiel’s voice dropped lower as he nuzzled against Dean’s jaw and kissed that soft patch of skin just behind the younger angel’s ear. His lover’s breath finished in little, higher quavers of desire, and the pressure of Dean’s fingers on his skin increased just a little more as they ran around his side and trailed Castiel’s back beneath his shirt. The older angel cupped Dean’s ass in his hands and tugged the younger angel’s hips against his until he felt that answering, stiff length against his cock. Dean groaned and bared his teeth in a grimace as he skimmed his cheek and forehead against Castiel’s until their noses slid together. All Castiel could taste was the anticipation of Dean’s lips and his natural forest-floor scent. When Dean’s mouth opened in a gasp as Castiel rubbed against him, the older angel covered his lips with a kiss, grime and sulphur be damned. Heat shot down his spine in desperate spikes, met Dean’s fingers and pooled where they caressed his skin. A high gasp left his lips and the desperate ache in his cock only grew as Dean moaned into his mouth. He needed Dean, his Grace burned to be inside him, to be electrified by pleasure again with an urge so strong that it almost hurt.  
  
Castiel clenched Dean’s body against him as the tawny angel ground against his own thrusts with short, sharp motions. The older angel sucked down Dean’s jaw and grunted into his throat as this horrific fire raged through his body; the fire that almost made him want to tear his lover apart in his quest for satisfaction, the instinctive, basic want that no angel was meant to have or find pleasure in acting out. But he needed it, he needed Dean’s cries of bliss, that white hot ecstasy of Grace on Grace, he needed to take his mate again and again until they found gratification… Castiel sucked hard on Dean’s neck and the other angel’s moan hitched. He reached behind Dean, but the younger angel had closed his wings and twitched them out of reach. Did Dean really think he could play games with him?  
With a less-than-gentle nip, Castiel pushed them apart and stood back as his chest heaved. He’d make sure Dean paid for this later. 

  
On the other hand, a shock of desire ran through Dean as he took in the sight before him: Cas’s goo-soaked shirt and trenchcoat rumpled about his shoulders, a millimetre away from dropping down his arms. His black hair stuck up as if he’d already spent an hour fucking, and his brilliant blue gaze burned hot through the black dirt with desire that was so ferocious he almost looked angry. Blotches of Cas’s face where Dean’s lips and cheek had touched were bare, and stark lines swirled over his chest, stomach and hips like some sort of ancient war paint. The whole vision was the most gorgeous, sexy thing Dean had seen in his life.  
“Holy shit, Cas.” Dean exposed his already-marked throat (seriously, Cas just couldn’t keep his teeth off – not that Dean was complaining) as a flush of heat rushed up his chest and made both his cock and nipples even harder than they had been. Cas didn’t say anything, but shrugged his upper clothes off and turned toward the pool. The older angel conjured some stairs, and the water seemed to dissolve his shoes and dress pants until, where he’d previously been covered in fabric, now Cas was submerged in water. Blue lapped against Cas’s muscular sides, higher and higher until the angel was shoulder deep in liquid so clear that Dean could see every inch of him through its distortion. Cas’s sharp, black wings dipped into the water and hissed as it dissolved the impurities. Dean was greeted with the sight of Cas’s sleek, wet muscles and feathers as the older angel turned back to face him. Holy shit. His Grace coiled and quivered in need, Dean’s wings shook with electric sparks and his cock strained at the sight, hell, he almost drooled. But when the tawny angel tried to join his mate, the stairs vanished.  
  
“Cas…?” Had he actually pissed Cas off by not letting him touch his wings? Then the strict, stern, commanding Marshal of Heaven swam through the oddly quiet water, rested his elbows on the rocky lip of the lagoon like a _seriously tempting_ winged merman and lifted those big blue eyes up to him.  
“Strip for me.” He cocked his head with an innocent expression as Dean almost choked as a shock of delighted disbelief wetted the tip of his cock. Holy fuck, he needed to hear that again.  
“What?”  
“Strip. Now. Slowly.” That authoritative edge in the older angel’s voice stroked right down to the sweet spot in Dean’s coding which told him to follow orders of a higher power. His whole being shivered with need to do as Cas said, and Dean’s eyes fluttered half-closed as he toed off his shoes. Even the stone on his bare feet sent tingles up his legs. He turned back to find those intense blue eyes fixed on him with a certain cockiness that Dean hadn’t seen before, but it made his skin light up and his breath quicken. He was beginning to see more and more of Cas’s faces, and he loved every single one of them.  
  
With a sure, slow movement, Dean drew a hand up the inside of his thigh, around the side of his obvious erection, and caught the bottom of his shirt as he canted his hips into the movement. He bit his lip and met Cas’s eyes as he drew the fabric upward. The older angel’s body stiffened and tensed, as if he were restraining himself from reaching out and yanking Dean into the water there and then. Cas’s eyes darkened as Dean spread his wings for him, in the most dirty sense of the word, and the Marshal's fingers sank into the stone floor. Dean then remembered the older angel’s penchant for ripping clothes, so he curled his fingers into the material on his chest and tore it off. In the water, Cas’s slick wings unfurled but the way they dripped and shone should have been penned down as a sin. Fire thrummed through Dean’s Grace as he flicked open his belt. Had it been so hot and intense last time they’d fucked? He…He couldn’t remember, but with his head in his pants right now, it was impossible to remember. Dean rolled his hips, slid a hand down his open zip and tried so hard to suppress a moan at the sensation of his own touch on his throbbing boner, although his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth dropped slack. Dean didn’t even need to look to feel Cas’s eyes hot on his unrestrained expression and got the feeling he wasn’t just going to get fucked today. He was going to be fucked blind and senseless until he couldn’t _breathe_ and Dean could wait, shit he wanted it now. So he scooped his hips and let his jeans slide inch by inch down his thighs, as his wings strained into an even more inappropriate tilt, as though they were unsure why the previous display hadn’t worked. His Grace writhed inside him, boiling with frustration, but he just had to tell himself just a little longer, a little bit more...  
  
Dean braved a glance at Cas, and the hand controlling his jeans slipped so bad that they disintgrated; the black-winged angel had drawn himself further out the water so that his whole glistening chest was visible above the edge of the pool. His pretty lips were parted and the pupils in those bright blue eyes had fully blown as he watched Dean strip. Cas’s black wings had risen to their full height and expanse, and Dean’s thighs quivered at their dominant aura. They gave him an idea though, and as he played with his black short-style underwear, he gave Cas the full view of his wings (and ass) with a slow turn. When he’d completed the 360, he hadn’t a stitch and his Grace tore at his breath. _Make_ Cas fuck you Dean, it begged, crawl, plead, offer yourself to him like an animal, anything to get satisfaction.  
“Get on your knees.” If Dean hadn’t known better, he would have thought from Cas’s tone that he was about to get the shit beaten out of him. So the younger angel knelt, utterly naked on the edge of the pool as his essence pulsed and his heavy cock curved hard towards his belly. Heat rushed up his chest, and Dean panted as he met the other angel’s ravenous gaze.  
Cas’s arms snaked up from where they had been folded on the water’s edge. One tangled into his hair and the other hooked behind his neck, and in one sharp tug, Cas pulled him into the lagoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cock-blocked. Lol. Tune in soon for a 6000 word smut-fest you dirty hoes. ;)  
> Anyhoo, tell me what you thought if you like, and thanks to everyone who's left kudos/comments! :)  
> Love you guys.


	17. 'S' Is For The Simple Need

This was what madness felt like. This had to be what total insanity was. Castiel’s vision already throbbed white around the edges with the pulse of his being as he dragged Dean under the surface. His Grace shuddered with delight as their lips met and this unholy, sweet torture ended. Castiel could almost taste Dean’s Grace on his tongue, could almost feel it near his own, but couldn’t make the ends meet with simply a kiss. They resurfaced from the light, filmy water in a surge of eager wings and tangled limbs. Castiel sucked Dean’s bottom lip as the younger angel gasped in his arms, every muscle picked out by the iridescent sheen of the holy water. When he’d been in the depths of Hell, covered in demonspawn, this is what Castiel had thought back to. Not God, not Heaven, no, Dean’s warm body with his gorgeous wings and striking features had kept him fighting. Hallelujah for hedonism and sanctified debauchery. Castiel bent to swipe Dean’s hard nipple with his tongue, and a sharp moan left the tawny angel’s lips. His muscular back arched into Castiel’s hands.  
“Please Cas…” Dean groaned against the curve of his neck and the older angel’s vision throbbed again as his lover’s hot, hard cock pressed against his thigh. Blunt nails raked through Castiel’s feathers and desire struck through his Grace like a bolt of hyper-powered lightning. His moan echoed off the stone walls and he bit into Dean’s shoulder as those fingers stroked closer to the base.  
  
In a white-hot blur, he slid around Dean’s side, hooked an arm around his chest and pulled him down onto an underwater bench at the edge of the lagoon, so that Dean was effectively kneeling over his lap, back and wings toward Castiel’s gaze. The older angel slid his hands under up into the very smallest feathers at the base of both of Dean’s wings, and although he couldn’t see the expression of pure ecstasy that crossed his lover’s face, the broken cry he gave echoed tenfold around the Basin. The huge, soft feathers rattled and splayed before him in a language of lust that Castiel had never seen wings perform before. A high ‘oh’ left his lips as he ran the downy quills through his fingers. Dean’s hands strained beneath the water on his own thighs as he struggled to keep himself upright and Castiel’s essence burned at the sight. He needed to be inside Dean now or else he might burst from the need built up inside him. His nails curled a little tighter than he meant to into Dean’s wings and the angel gave a broken shout and arched his ass out in an irresistible offer.  
“Now I’m going to fuck you.” Castiel could only manage a breathy grunt as Dean panted and choked out high pleas. A quiver ran through the younger angel’s hips as he lifted them, and Castiel trailed hot kisses up his lover’s spine as the younger angel shook over his lap. He guided his dark, pounding cock towards Dean’s wet entrance with one hand and slid the other around Dean’s stomach.  
“Yes! Oh fuck!” Dean cried and tossed his head back on Castiel’s shoulder, mouth moulded around the gasp that tore itself from his throat, eyes rolled back in pleasure. By all of Heaven, Castiel had never seen a more gorgeous sight; he grabbed and turned Dean’s jaw and kissed him as he pushed into that oh-so-satisfying heat. Their desperate, indecent moans melded together, muffled against each other’s tongues and jerking lips. Oh, Castiel could sense Dean’s Grace and his own, his own poor, burned, tender, over-stimulated, frantic Grace whirled like an electrical storm inside him. He pulled Dean’s back and lower wings flush against his chest and thrust in deeper as their lips worked with hot, desperate fever against one another.  
  
The crash of ecstasy that shot through him tore his mouth away from Dean’s with a loud gasp as their impatient Graces tangled in a zap of blinding light, and Castiel curled his fingers in Dean’s hair as he pumped his hips again. Astride his lap, Dean gave a strangled cry and rocked his hips in a sweet counter-rhythm that ground Castiel’s cock deeper into him on each beat. Sensation from the tightness clenched around the part of him inside Dean lanced through Castiel’s muscles and his skin quivered. Water splashed and lapped out over the lip of the rocks at the force and passion of their movements. Castiel’s own gasps filled his spinning head as he pressed his forehead against the nape of his lover’s neck. This was too much, this was too good, too desperate, too deliciously debasing…Dean’s outstretched wings spasmed and threw up water too, and the vision of such powerful things in the helpless throes of pleasure wracked sparks through Castiel’s Grace and into the Grace he penetrated. Dean’s broad shoulders shuddered as the spasm of the Grace inside his own hit him, but Castiel just let him fall forward a little and lent his tongue to the base of Dean’s left wing. The younger angel’s Grace swirled and contracted as Dean gritted his teeth against a scream.  
Stars burst in front of Castiel’s vision; it was all he could do to keep fucking up into Dean’s ass and keep his tongue at work. Dean’s wing tilted before him and exposed that awful, ecstatic spot he’d found before when Dean had sucked his cock. White light sizzled under his eyelids as their Graces rubbed and ground intense, unbearable pleasure through his atoms, until Castiel could feel the echo of Dean’s experience through where their essence touched. Oh – oh fuck! Castiel swore and clenched his arm tighter around Dean’s waist. Every thrust ripped a less and less restrained grunt out the older angel’s chest, all angelic modesty and virtue lost in the wild abandon of pleasure; the Basin rang with the sounds of their sex amplified ten times over, and it shocked electric thrills through Castiel’s spine. They were close to the satisfaction they craved, all they needed was a little push…  
  
The older angel craned his neck through their rhythm and grazed gentle teeth over Dean’s wing-spot, and the younger angel gave a violent spasm from thighs to pinions. A noise keened out of his singing throat that Castiel had never heard an angel make and it sent a shockwave of intense bliss through them both.  
“Dean! “ Castiel cried and the younger angel splashed water everywhere as he writhed in Castiel’s arms and around the organ and Grace within him. Dean brought his hips down too hard and Castiel choked on air as he found himself so deeply entangled in his mate’s Grace that he could feel Dean’s wings light up as well as his own. Castiel clawed his nails into the younger angel’s chest and Dean snaked an arm up around his head, fingers desperate to clutch on to something. The older angel slammed their lips together as heat and incredible, concentrated ecstasy spasmed through him. Dean swallowed Castiel’s cries and his own tongue caught Dean’s shouts as they kissed and panted through the frantic, starting swell of their orgasm. It was messy and hot and so, so desperate, but Castiel couldn’t get enough. So many planes of pleasure were in play – Dean’s three, his three, all merged into one – that it took all Castiel had not to throw his head back and give himself up to sensation. He had to hold on to Dean and ride these waves of bliss for as long as possible…But neither of them could stay in this bubble of almost-peaked pleasure for long.  
  
Castiel grunted into Dean’s mouth and gave another hard flick of his hips upward. Dean tried to pull his mouth away and cry out, but Castiel wanted it, he wanted to feel Dean’s frenzied, shuddering lips against his, to get them high off the taste of each other. Dean’s mouth all but froze against his and Castiel could feel the vibrations of Dean’s throat as he tried to give a violent shout. A spasm wracked them both, and white pulsed across Castiel’s vision as he swallowed and licked up Dean’s screams. It was dangerous, but too good not to savour until the very, very last moment. Then white energy gushed up his throat, and Castiel tore his lips away from Dean’s to stop their Grace soldering together. Ecstasy so powerful it almost hurt slammed through him, and the angel clung onto Dean’s body as they shouted and bucked and writhed out the waves of it together. His own vision whited out, and Castiel’s cheek and neck sparked with a buzz of electric pleasure as the heat of Dean’s own spurts of holy light grazed him.

By the time Castiel’s body finished the last of his orgasmic spasms, the walls still rang with their cries and the older angel’s throat seared raw again.  
“Oh Dean…” He growled from his torn throat and held the loose-limbed younger angel against his chest. Against Castiel’s belly, a spasm rippled down Dean’s arched spine and elicited another groan from the older angel’s lips as a leftover spark of Grace shot between them. Dean dropped his head back and nuzzled his nose against Castiel’s jawline, eyes still lazy with pleasure. Beautiful. Down the younger angel’s broad chest, Castiel made out long, red tracks where his nails had torn.  
“You’re a monster.” Dean mumbled out. “With the…whatever you did to me just then…my wing…”  
He sighed, and Castiel ran a hand up his lover’s muscular thigh as his being still pulsed from the orgasm. There was so much more that he wanted to do with Dean’s wings…In fact…an idea lit up Castiel’s head as they panted back to the real world.

  


Dean had been right: he’d been fucked senseless within the first few seconds of Cas entering him, and the rest had just been him trying to hold to reality until it was over. High moans still ghosted out his mouth as his vision stopped spinning. He could still taste the older angel’s shouts of lost restraint on his tongue and feel the echo of Cas’s pleasure in his Grace as he rested against that warm chest behind him.  
“So, uh, what do…do you call this place an..anyway?” Crap, he still couldn’t even speak properly! Dean glanced across and caught his mate’s smug little smile. In all fairness, he’d earned to be a bit smug.  
“It’s a Purifying Basin.” Cas grated out, then burst into coughs. The vibrations jolted Dean where they were still connected and brought a high gasp to his throat. He took a moment to steady himself, then swam forward a little bit, off Cas’s softening cock, and turned to face the black-winged angel. The tracks Cas’s nails had dug into him stung, then smoothed over in the water.  
“Here, let me.” Dean reached a healing hand towards the older angel’s neck, and Cas sighed with relief as the white glow muted his pain. Michael was such a frickin douche for making Cas suffer, but then again, it had sounded like Sam and Charlie had bust in on his naked pedicure session. That’d piss off the glorious, holy king of Heaven if nothing else they’d done hadn’t.  
“Thank you.” Those brilliant blue eyes found him, but they had a playful edge to match the smug tug on his lips. Cas glided through the water, never breaking eye contact and looked all the part of the temptuous merman. “And you did an incredible job in command today. From that battle you have secured yourself a rank.”  
Dean trailed a finger down the other angel’s bicep and broke his gaze for a moment. “I…I’m just glad you’re alive, y’know? I don’t know what I would have done…”  
“Don’t think on it.” A light kiss found his temple. Then the oh-so-serious Marshal of Heaven drew back, flicked a wing and splashed him in the face with water.  
“Hey!” Dean grinned, but Cas just turned and disappeared beneath the surface. Oh, was that how he was gonna play it?  
  
Dean dove into the liquid so clear that it wasn’t difficult to spot his mate. Cas’s musculature gleamed in the dappled blue light, adorned with a shroud of bubbles. His black wings swirled and cut through the water and the whole vision was so beautiful that Dean forgot to chase him for a moment. The he caught Cas’s eyes giving him the same appreciative once-over, and his body seemed to forget that it had just been ravished beyond reason. Dean kicked off and curved his wings beneath the surface like rudders, but Cas darted out of his reach like some playful water-nymph, amusement still simmering beneath his eyes. The younger angel gave a wolfish grin. Ok _this_ was a game he could get behind. Cas cocked his wings and plunged deeper into the lagoon, Dean hot on his ankles. They spun in a helix of bubbles toward the centre of the Basin, Cas always an inch ahead of his fingers. He reached out a wing to try and direct the other angel, but Cas just dove beneath it, fingers sweeping the feathers as he went. Bubbles leapt out of Dean’s mouth at the surprise zing of pleasure, and he gave an almighty plunge forward towards Cas. His hand slipped off his mate’s calf, but secured on his ankle, and Cas turned about, eyes dancing and wings arched, an odd image for the depths of a lagoon. Dean smirked and ran his other hand up behind Cas’s knee, then let the ankle drop to caress his thigh and slide up over that gorgeous ass, like climbing a ladder to reach the reward at the top. Cas floated forward, black hair an ethereal halo about his head, and ran his hand from Dean’s shoulder, over his collarbone and down to his chest. The drag of the water made the trail even more slow and indulgent, and Dean tilted his jaw up as an offering for Cas to kiss him.  
  
The bastard took his time; he pressed their chests together, tangled Dean’s legs with his and then dipped his head just to brush Dean’s lips. When Dean tried to snatch something more substantial, Cas glided back a little, and that familiar fire began to simmer in Dean’s groin. Their Graces were never going to let them chill, were they? Not that Dean minded. He reached up and tangled his hand in Cas’s soft hair, and the older angel let him guide him down towards Dean’s lips. The kiss was slow and wet – hey, they were underwater – and Cas’s tongue glided around Dean’s mouth, pushing here, tasting his teeth and snaking out to lap at his lips. As they kissed, Dean gave slow flaps of his wings to urge them towards the surface. The spark in his Grace shuddered and roared into life as Cas’s slick body melted into his. They spun about in the water and Dean’s thigh hitched up around Cas’s hip as the older angel dug his fingers into Dean’s muscular shoulders. Cas’s taught stomach and quickly growing semi slithered against his own bronzed skin, and Dean sucked kisses down his mate’s shoulder, hungry all over again. Then Cas gave a powerful beat of his wings, and they breached the surface like a missile fired from a submarine. Dean barely even felt his shoulder smash through a wall as Cas tangled their lips together again, as if he wanted to suck the air from Dean’s lungs and the purity from his Grace. Dean sank his fingers into the muscle of Cas’s ass and thrust against his lover as they ploughed through another wall like a feathery, wet tornado. Before he could get his bearings, Dean found his wrists pinned beside his head beneath Cas, as the older angel kissed him with such wild abandon that it caught Dean off guard.  
  
“Mmm-Ca-mm – Cas!” He gasped out and found his mate’s eyes, which already simmered with Grace. “Are…are you ok?”  
“You – “ Cas bared his teeth and his shoulders heaved. Holy fuck, he’d never seen any angel as uninhibited as this near primal force before him. A blaze of sudden light burst through his Grace with such force that he tipped back his head and gave a loud moan. Cas immediately bent his neck and bit into Dean’s throat, then sucked and licked the sore spot as a quiver shot through Dean’s thighs.  
“Wait.” Cas snarled, and a whimper of disbelief choked out Dean’s throat as all of a sudden, he was alone. His Grace seared again in need, and his back arched off the ground. Then Cas reappeared with an object in each hand. What…  
“On your knees.” This time Cas’s voice was soft, and those flickering blue eyes roved across his body. Dean scrambled to obey, but the dim light in the spacious room didn’t allow him to see what the objects Cas had fetched were.  
“Cas, what…?” He had to admit, he was a little nervous – no excited. Cas was so unpredictable; who knew what he had in store?  
“I want to put this around your eyes.” A leather blindfold engraved with Enochian sigils, Dean realized, was one of the objects. Something clanked as Cas lifted the other thing. “And then I want to put these around your wrists.”  
Oh. Oh fuck. A shiver of heat lanced down Dean’s body and lit his Grace up with incredible disbelief, but the initial shock must have shown up on his face.  
“Only if you want it, Dean.” Cas knelt forward and stroked his jaw.  
“I – “ His breath hitched as he stumbled over himself. The idea of being at the complete mercy of Castiel made his cock twitch and leak. “I do, yes, I want it.”  
  
The black-winged angel reached up and tied the cords of the leather strap secure behind his head. The blindfold seemed to glue on to his skin, and Dean wondered why the heck Cas had something like this in his back yard. Everything was pitch black, and now he couldn’t see, every other sense pricked up – his skin and feathers tingled as they sensed Cas in front of him, he could hear every shift in the space and taste the coolness of the room. Then several layers of cloth snaked about his wrists, and over them clamped angel-binding manacles. A little gasp left his lips as he felt the chain that connected them was tethered to the floor between his spread knees. Anticipation throbbed through his Grace, and he arched his back, ready for fingers on his body or lips against his own. He waited, pulsing and burning on the floor, until he was almost whimpering from suspense. Then his wings unfurled in reaction to something he couldn’t see and Dean turned his head toward the sound of Cas’s bare feet on the glossy stone.  
  
“Cas – “ Dean’s breath shuddered back into his lungs as fingers trailed up his outmost feather. A spike of heat that he could almost see beneath his lids shot down his wings and straight down his spine. His arms jerked, but the helplessness of his situation crashed back to him as he couldn’t move them. Cas was going to kill him. Cas was going to torture him and kill him with frickin pleasure. As the older angel reached the tip of his feather, those fingers settled on the one beside it and the harder edge of his nail ran down the quill.  
“Ah! Cas!” Dean bent over, but couldn’t move much further. His own breath echoed around the room as Cas began on a third. Feather by feather, Cas worked down his right wing, one hand on the outside, one on the inside until Dean’s groans and cries filled the space and he shuddered on the floor. He tossed his head to the side as Cas reached his smaller feathers and a little, insincere ‘no’ dropped from his lips. His Grace roared and coiled within him, and Dean knew where Cas stood just from the direction it rammed against the inside of his being.  
“Cas, Cas – “ Dean threw his head back in a crooning moan as the older angel’s fingers teased with a horrific slowness through those sensitive feathers. His cock bumped against his stomach, hot and screaming for attention. But he couldn’t touch it, Cas had made sure of that. Dean’s essence shook as his mate reached right under his wing, where the most delicate feathers were shielded by his shoulders.  
  
“No, no, mmmm, Cas – “ Dean’s whole body jerked; his neck snapped up, his spine curved out and his thighs spread further as he kneeled. His shoulders wrenched back but he was pulled down by the tether. The shout he gave bounced off the walls, and Dean caught a low groan of desire from beside him.  
“Please, please…” Dean didn’t know what he was begging for, for Cas to stop the assault on his rattling wings, for Cas to never end this sweet agony…his Grace boiled and curled inside him, but had nothing to satisfy itself on. His body shook and shook, until Cas’s fingers pulled away. The realization struck Dean that it was possible he couldn’t come unless his Grace was touched. Oh crap. Oh fuck. Cas might keep him like this for hours. A whimper left Dean’s lips, and the soft patter of footsteps told him that his mate had gone to the far end of his left wing. He tried to jerk it away a little, but whatever the older angel had done to make them open stopped him from closing them.   
  
Dean’s breath quavered in a shallow moan. He was right. Cas was going to kill him. Again, those two devilish hands caught his largest feather between them and carded down it. It was almost a relief after having his inner feathers ravaged, but the mercy didn’t last. Those pitiless fingers stroked and gently scratched and caressed all the way down toward Dean’s spasming shoulders. Huge gasps and sobs wrenched themselves from his chest and he clawed his fingers into the chain connecting the manacles that bound him. His wings trembled and fluttered in vain to get away from this bliss, this torture, but Cas’s path was inevitable. This time, he didn’t move directly onto Dean’s small feathers but let off for just a moment, and Dean gave a shout of exasperation. His Grace zinged out along his back and inside his wings, hot near Cas’s hand, but Dean knew the older angel couldn’t touch it. Nails carded through his down, and Dean bent over again as spasms wracked him over and over, his Grace so close to the one who could give it gratification…A short scream tore from his throat as Cas’s fingers found that stupid, ecstatic, godawful spot and he writhed against the chain that held him down. Saliva slid down his chin as sparks popped in front of the blackness before him, but he didn’t come, he couldn’t come. His whole body raged with fire, burned so hot that he thought he might explode and he couldn’t stop the hoarse, ragged sounds that gushed from his throat, his singing throat, his normal throat, he had no clue. Then Cas’s hands disappeared and Dean sobbed, yes he frickin _sobbed_ , as every inch of him pleaded and quivered and throbbed with this frantic, basic need. He tried to plead with Cas, but he just couldn’t form words, and a mess of moans, broken Enochian and sobs garbled out his mouth.  
  
“Shhhh.” A warm, dry hand smoothed his hair back, and Dean flinched even at that small touch, but at least his sobs calmed down to ragged gasps. His Grace leapt toward Cas’s fingers like sparks inside an energy ball, and Dean leaned towards his mate as far as he could, trying to convey his need. But the bastard let his hand fall, and settled down right in front of Dean’s chained hands. The whoosh of rough feathers told Dean that Cas’s own wings had spread, and he could imagine that gorgeous arc in his head –  
“Ahhh! Cas!” Dean shouted as his mate’s feathers massaged into his own larger ones. Then there was a shift in the space beside his arms and another scream ripped out of Dean’s throat as Cas’s fingers found those torturous spots on both of his wings. He writhed and buried his head in Cas’s shoulder as the pleasure from the outer feathers and the almost painful bliss from the stimulation of his inner feathers smashed and merged into one pool of electric euphoria. His Grace coiled like an angry snake inside him, the fire lighting up every inch of him with some sort of passionate fury, and he all but threw himself against Castiel, biting and sucking whatever piece of the other angel he could find in blind desperation.  
  
Now he could hear the older angel’s hoarse gasps, and moans and their lips met in a wave of heat. Dean’s Grace leapt forward, up his throat, but couldn’t quite reach Cas, couldn’t quite get off, and it drove Dean insane. He tried to urge his tongue further and further into Cas’s mouth, lips sealed so tight on his mate’s that it almost hurt, but he wanted it, he needed it… A deft stroke of Cas’s fingers brought him back up to surface with a strangled cry, and Dean knew his eyes shone from beneath this blindfold. The urge to orgasm wracked through him, it shook his body so hard that if it hadn’t been for Cas’s arms around him, he would have collapsed sideways.  
“Please, please, please, please, please…” Dean garbled into Cas’s collarbone, but another wave of frantic fire ripped through him. This was going to destroy him. Cas was going to kill him right here and now, because if this heat wasn’t quenched, it would burn him to char. Then, without removing his wings or fingers, Cas’ shoulders dipped down, away from Dean’s chest, but through all the sensations, the younger angel barely noticed until he felt that rough jaw push between the V of his chained hands. What –  
  
Then Dean felt his eyes roll back in his head and his whole being shivered as warm lips pressed against the soaked tip of his pounding cock. Yes, oh fuck yes! He bent his elbows to give Cas more space as his Grace burst and popped in glee. That hot tongue teased his slit as his wings jerked between Cas’s wings and fingers. A moan and then another moan, which grew louder and louder swelled out his lips as heat encompassed his bulging, thick cock. Dean’s thighs shook; not just one spasm but a continual wrack of muscle. He wasn’t an angel anymore. He was a being entirely made up of ecstasy. Then he could feel it, fuck, he could feel Cas’s Grace, so close, so -  
He lost it.   
  
Dean could feel the reaction of his body and wings, could sense his head snap up and heard the screams and scandalous, vulgar noises that burst out of him, but the sensation in his Grace was beyond any of those things. It surged inside Cas’s and burst through it until they surrounded each other, they tangled so close with each other that gorgeous, blissful energy ransacked every atom of their existences. Dean’s fire slammed through the older angel, and from Cas’s muffled scream and the nails that jerked in his feathers, he knew Cas felt what Dean felt, like in the Basin. Both angels teetered on the edge of ecstasy, then Dean thrust himself further into Cas’s throat and his Grace exploded along with the room. He’d never lost control like this; everything shook in him, around him and all he saw, all he heard was waves and waves and waves of pleasure. It crashed around him, ripped him apart and put him back together, lost him in a sea that he never wanted to swim out of, but couldn’t bear to stay in, it was so powerful.  
  
How long it took, Dean had no clue, and even when he knew he was coming back from the high, he was too disorientated to track time. After basking in the glow as long as he could, Dean opened his eyes and remembered he still had a blindfold on.  
“Mmm…” He tried to speak but his mouth had lethargy and wouldn’t work. Dust and grit touched Dean’s lips and tickled his nose, and weird weights rested on parts of him, but he was too relaxed to move. Part of him was covered by a more familiar, warm bulk, but either Cas was still gone to pleasure or he couldn’t do much right now either. So he fell back into the dwindling glow and made sure his Grace stayed down.  
“Cas?” When Dean could finally work his tongue, he tried to sit up. The scrape of rock grated on his ears and one of the odd weights crunched off his shoulder. What had happened?  
“Mm.” A low grunt came from the warmth on top of him, and fingers picked at the knot at the back of his head. For a moment, Dean blinked, the light too stark for his eyes. Then everything swam back into focus and…wow. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Whatever room they’d been in was in ruins, and a hole gaped out to the sky above through two other stories. Tan stone lay in chunks around and on the two angels, and a filter of dust trickled down in the sunlight.  
“Holy crap.” Dean managed out as Cas unlocked his manacles. “Holy, holy crap.”  
  
He lay back and the Marshal of Heaven crawled further up on his chest like a sleepy kitten. A sleepy, bondage, orgasm-depriving kitten. They lay in the destruction, just listening to each other’s breathing for a while.  
“That was intense.” Cas’s bright eyes were still languid as he peered up at Dean. The master of understatements right there.  
“ _You’re_ saying that!” Dean laughed with disbelief and Cas gave a satisfied sigh. Now that the fire had calmed and there were no injuries or battles, the realization he’d been struck with as he’d watched Cas burst from the Hellgate rushed back to him.  
“Cas, do…do you remember, I don’t know…” Dean wasn’t even sure whether Cas had retained the memory, and suddenly felt a bit awkward. That steady gaze held his without a hint of recognition or confusion. “W-when I was little, like, before my wings had even gone through their first moult, I…I was on Earth and got in trouble with demons.”  
He glanced down and played with Cas’s fingers.  
“I didn’t have enough power to smite them all, and…” His throat choked with shame, but Dean ploughed on. “I called out for help. An angel saved me that day Cas. My dad said it was him, but it wasn’t, the shape of the wings was different. I…I could have sworn…it was you.”  
  
Dean winced and glanced back up to his mate, ready for denial or incredulity at his pretentious belief that the Third Marshal of Heaven, second only to the archangels, had come to save him personally. But a smile twitched at Cas’s lips.  
“When I learned the name of the angel I disciplined that first day at the Academy, it was a shock to learn that the tiny, bloodstained, yet determined thing I carried from earth that day had grown to be such a proficient…and handsome warrior.” Cas’s eyes teased, his tone warm. “But now I think on it, that recklessness and determination defines you, and I should have recognized you on sight.”  
A warm glow seeped through Dean’s stomach and welled in his chest at the confirmation.  
“Why…why did you save me though?” The sentence dropped from Dean’s mouth before he could stop it. “I mean, Marshals of Heaven don’t just pop out for any old angel, and I’m sure others heard me.”  
Cas’s smile just picked up, as though the memory was a fond one. “Even back then, your Grace sang to me like a brand of fire in my mind. For so long, I had no clue why.”  
He drew a gentle finger down Dean’s bare chest. “Mystery solved.”  
“Wow. No wonder dad was pissed.” Dean chuckled and tried to imagine his father facing off with the cold calmness of an irate Castiel. The older angel reached up a hand and stroked his cheek.  
“I want you by my side always, Dean.” The gravitas in his voice struck Dean for a moment.  
“And I always want to be by your side, Cas. You go, I’m there.” They exchanged a nod and a contented silence filled the air.  
  
“Cas?”  
“Yes, Dean.” Big blue eyes raised up to him again.  
“Y’know how I sang to the assembled angels at the Academy of War? That was my true – personal – song, wasn’t it?” Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s jet black hair.  
“Yes, a Call to Valour, I believe. Beautiful and dangerous.” Cas’s lips caught his jaw, but it seemed like their Graces were taking a tea break and had decided to give them peace from the incessant mating instinct. “I am honoured I got to hear it.”  
Dean considered Cas for a moment. “What’s your song?”  
The older angel’s eyes dropped, and Dean felt as though he’d said something terrible.  
“It…it’s…other angels do not like it.” Cas peered up towards the sky, and something flitted across his features. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”  
“Cas.” Dean coaxed his jaw up. What could be so bad? A terrible destruction lay? A powerful command hymn? “Cas look at me. I want to hear it, I don’t care what other angels think.”  
Castiel held his gaze for a long moment, then raised a hand to heal his throat again. “Alright, but…I’m sorry.”  
  
The black-haired angel sat up among the rubble, then his shoulders dropped in relaxation and he shut his eyes. Among the things Dean had expected, the sound that rang out of Cas’s mouth was not one of them. It cut him to the core, choked his throat, and a wrack of pure grief shuddered through his essence. It was empty, hollow depression and screaming, desperate sadness; it was bittersweet and broken. It told of things lost, never to be regained, what could have been and missed opportunities; a river of tears and blood mingled on the grass of a battlefield, death, toil and pain, rolled into one agonizing eulogy to sorrow. Sorrow, that’s what it was, in every form, every madness, every method, everything that hurt beyond anger, beyond pain and beyond help. Before he could stop himself, Dean broke down; everything he’d lost, everything he’d done, everything he longed for rose within him. His father and mother were gone, he’d abandoned Sammy, he’d been turned into a monster, he’d hurt and abused people, he’d commanded hundreds of angels to their deaths... The hole inside him grew and grew and…then silence. He found himself in Cas’s arms, weeping like nothing would ever be right again.  
“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.” Warm hands smoothed calm circles into his bare back as he buried his face in Cas’s shoulder and sobbed. Minutes passed and soon his tears reduced to hiccups and then dry gulps.  
“Wow.” His voice shook, but Cas didn’t let him go. Dean leaned into the warmth, and a new heat bubbled up inside him and filled that emptiness when he pressed against Cas’s cheek. “That was incredible.”  
Cas ducked his head, as though the mighty warrior were ashamed of himself. “I haven’t sung to anyone like that since…it must have been millennia now.”  
“Hey, hey…” Dean stroked the soft hair in the nape of his neck and the image of Cas alone in his space as that bittersweet tune echoed from his lips appeared in his head. “It’s very powerful, but that don’t make it a bad thing, huh? Angels are afraid of intense emotion like that, but it’s not bad.”  
Cas didn’t say a word, but leaned his forehead against Dean’s. His hands wrapped around the younger angel’s and contentment seemed to flow between them in the pool of sunshine and rubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas gets creative with torture restraints. Penultimate chapter! One more to go and we're done c: As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, and thank you to everyone who's stuck with this fic til the (near) end! You're all awesome, and I hope you enjoyed it so far. Thanks to everyone who's already left kudos and comments, you're stars c:


	18. Not A Thing To Change

Castiel took a seat opposite Naomi and focussed his laser stare on her angular face. It seemed after Michael had finished his investigation, she had questions of her own. This was fair; it was her Academy after all, and it had been her students whom he had led into battle, from which some had not returned. Dean settled beside him and his green eyes flicked between the older angels. Naomi had wished for Dean’s presence, but she wouldn’t dare punish him, Castiel was sure of that much.  
  
“Castiel.” Naomi held his gaze for a moment, then dropped it. “Michael assured me that the archangels assigned an extremely difficult task to our new warriors, far above their experience level, in an effort to test them.”  
She sighed, and Castiel saw the seed of doubt in her eyes. “The students and some other teachers may believe this, and I cannot question the word of an archangel. However…”  
Naomi clenched her jaw as though she knew she were treading dangerous ground. “This was a task for the garrison of Heaven, not my students. I understand the politics of the situation, but if you try to lead my students into a situation like that again, I will do everything in my power to stop you, even if I die trying.”  
The angel’s voice was taught, as though she expected him to lash out.  
  
Castiel didn’t say anything, but continued his stare for a few moments. She was a lower-ranking angel, but she did have a point. It hadn’t been fair or a suitable situation for such new warriors, but it had been an emergency. Naomi’s face was drawn, and Castiel could see she knew that if he wanted to take what he wanted, to do what he wanted, then she had very little defence, but she would face him in combat anyway if it came down to it.  
“I understand. If another situation arises, I will consult you.” Castiel knew those words weren’t much comfort to her, but if the archangels went petty again, he still needed some sort of backup plan. Hopefully they’d all let this simmer down for a couple of hundred years. Naomi’s jaw worked, but she couldn’t say anything more, so she turned to Dean.  
  
“Now, I have heard about the trouble you have been in Decanos. Some explanation is necessary.” She raised her eyebrows, and Castiel’s wings ached to flare open and frighten some respect for his mate into her. But he kept his wings by his side and instead let his cold stare fixate on her.  
“Anything specific, or just my general, troublesome nature?” A flash of Dean’s old attitude toward authority almost made Castiel smile. He certainly was troublesome and defiant, but the fact that Castiel was the only high-ranking angel Dean would listen to sent a simmer of heat through the older angel’s essence. Not only that, but Dean was learning; here Dean could have admitted to many things, but instead, he’d avoided that trap. There was a commander to be made out of him yet, Castiel thought as his pride for the younger angel bordered on sin.  
“Uriel’s report said you threatened to kill one of his students with an angel blade. Later that day, that student and his friends were found half-dead outside the Academy, and Uriel, a highly trained, First Generation angel, was killed in the battle of the Hell Gate. Now I’m not trying to pin blame on anyone, but I would like to know the truth.” Naomi’s gaze flicked back to Castiel and she swallowed at his icy aura.  
“I believe I settled this.” Castiel bored his eyes into her, and her champagne wings shifted with nerves.  
“Cas…” Dean looked across at him, until the older anger moved his gaze to the tawny-winged angel. “Listen, Josephus and his gang had been forming their own sub-tyranny under Uriel. I mean, I was part of that too until Cas came along taught me a lesson.”  
  
Warm, green eyes met his, and Dean’s smile heated his wings. Naomi looked between them, as though she couldn’t find the puzzle piece she were missing. “Ask any angel from Combat, and the Lore angels too, a lot of them were victims. I would never have killed Josephus, I just needed some sort of leverage to save my friends from being gang-bashed, which he and his little friends were doing. As for Uriel’s death, I have no idea.”  
Dean lied his pretty little face off, but a good pokerface was a prerequisite to become any sort of high-level angel.  
“And how did Josephus and his friends end up beaten and bloody in a back alley of my Academy?” Naomi sighed and sat back. Castiel knew that the thugs would wake up some time, and someone would probably get them to talk, so it would be better off that he claimed responsibility off the bat.  
“Under my jurisdiction as a Marshal of Heaven and the with the degree of holy judgement imbued in me, I saw fit to punish these angels in a manner that fit their crime.” He grated out, and his throat began to itch again.  
“What?!” Naomi almost stood, but remembered her rank. “They’re Third Generation. That punishment was too harsh!”  
“They must learn their place.” Castiel’s eyes flashed and Naomi stiffened in fear. “They defied me one time too many, displayed unhealthy disobedience and turned a place of learning into a place of fear.”  
  
As far as obedience went, Castiel knew he was a hypocrite, and he was well aware he’d gone too far in an outburst of protective rage, but he did not wish to discuss this any further. Whether Naomi was satisfied or not, his word was law unless an archangel became involved, and when anything concerned Dean, he’d throw his rank around as much as it took to keep his name clear.  
“I will be staying at your Academy until commanded otherwise.” Castiel stood, and Naomi followed by instinct. It seemed she was disgruntled but resigned. “Now Dean and I have business to attend to.”  
Dean’s face seemed almost hopeful as the younger angel met his gaze. _Business as in ‘what other creative toys does Cas have in his basement’ business?_  
Castiel kept his face blank as a hundred images ran through his head, but there was something he wished to do before he ravished this young angel again. And again. And again.  
_I’d like to catch up with Balthazar, and then yes, I shall fuck you so hard that we’ll break the floor._ Castiel gave a curt nod to Naomi as Dean choked beside him. The head angel eyed Dean with some concern, but then seemed to remember something.  
“Wait.” She called. “I’m assuming neither of you knew that the archangel Gabriel was in my Academies…or maybe you might know…why?”  
“From my experiences with Gabriel, he is often without reason.” Castiel tried to ignore the shot of pleasure that lanced up his spine as Dean’s wing brushed his own. Naomi saw him tense, but he ignored her nervous gaze. “In some ways he reminds me more of our Father than others, as he works in mysterious ways, vanishes and never stays around to explain himself.”  
Before Naomi could stammer out a reply, Castiel led the way out of her office.  
  
_Seriously dude, warn me before you give me a boner!_ Dean grinned beside him, and several angels in the hallway snapped to attention in newfound respect for the Marshal of Heaven and their former second in command. Castiel had a feeling that although Dean’s title had been temporary in an emergency situation, he would never really lose it. As for being Castiel’s second in command…there was nothing the older angel wanted more, but it would cause a disturbance in his troops if Dean, a Third Generation, unranked angel suddenly became their superior. No, Dean had healthy respect here, so when he graduated, Castiel planned to give him the warriors of the Academy of War as a sub-contingent in his own force. Then Dean would be a commander and it only took a few natural steps, a few displays of brilliance for him to prove that he belonged at Castiel’s side as Second in Command, and the Marshal of Heaven had no doubts he would succeed. The older angel’s fingers tingled as he laid a hand on Dean’s shoulders and flew them both into Balthazar’s space. What it would be like today, Castiel had no idea; that angel found a huge amount of satisfaction in redecorating and redecorating his space, from Renaissance Italy to French Cruise ship. But one thing was for certain; Balthazar had class, and today was no exception. There was a reason he hosted most angelic conferences.  
  
This time Castiel himself in a huge, clean-cut Tokyo penthouse suite that opened up to a rail-less deck balcony and a cool, starry night. A fountain of wine stood as a centrepiece, and laughter filled the room. Not only were Sam, Charlie, Balthazar and Benny there, but another, ragged, bearded angel had joined them. He looked so out of place among Balthazar’s chic interior decorating that Castiel wondered if he’d flown into his friend’s space by mistake.  
‘Oh, welcome to the party darlings!” The blue-silver winged warrior exclaimed and conjured up two more crystal goblets. “It’s a magnificent Macedonian vintage from, oh, 326BC.”  
It took a great deal of earthly alcohol to get an angel drunk, but even though Balthazar looked the picture of an elegant host with a tasteful glass of wine, Castiel knew that angel could consume gallons in a single hour and before they knew it, they’d be listening to French folksongs while the culprit threw darts at a picture of Celine Dion. Castiel often believed that it was the fact that he and Balthazar were so different from most angels that made them good friends.  
  
Then the raggedy angel strode across to Dean and clapped his shoulder, and his eyes said more than his gruff tone. “You did good, son. You did good.”  
“Thanks Bobbicus.” Dean’s smile brimmed as he returned the bearded angel’s touch. Ah. Dean had mentioned this angel. “I haven’t introduced you to Cas yet, have I?”  
“It’s an honour.” Bobbicus nodded at him, and even though he couldn’t hold Castiel’s eyes long, he still took a tone of gentle warning. “You take care of my boy now, or you’ll have me to answer to.”  
“Of course.” A small smile pulled up Castiel’s lip, and the older angel stole a glance at Dean’s chiselled features in the low amber light of Balthazar’s sitting room. Before he knew it, a tingle shivered down his spine and he ached to kiss and suck his way up that almost too-perfect jaw.  
“Just in time!” Balthazar broke the loving stare. “Dear old Bobbicus was about to show us all about Dean learning to fly!”  
“Who’re you callin’ old, you First Generation pom?” Bobbicus griped as Dean spluttered through the wine he’d just drunk.  
“Wha – no, no, don’t you dare Bobbicus!” Dean jumped after the grizzled angel and Castiel couldn’t help it as his smile widened. “How’d you - Why are you even here?”  
“Sam called me. Thought I’d liven up the party.” Bobbicus sank down onto a plush chair with a pair of U shapes carved in the back (like all angelic chairs) to allow comfort for his wings.  
“Oh, like it needed it!” Balthazar scoffed and perched on a pouf, wine glass refilled. “Although you do tell such fascinating stories. Maybe I should break out the ones about Cassy dearest.”  
“Don’t give me an excuse to demote you.” Castiel smiled as Dean raised his eyebrows.  
  
He took a seat on the settee and sipped Balthazar’s ancient wine. The Macedonians really knew how to put some kick into their alcohol; it was great for angels, but back in the day humans couldn’t drink it without three parts water. Oh dear. That reminded him; whenever the lieutenant was freed from the angel cage, he’d have to demote her. Not something to look forward to. His throat stung at the alcohol, so Castiel gave it another quick heal.  
“Oh go on then. If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t last a day without being bored out of your brain by politicians.” Balthazar took another swig and Castiel matched it. Charlie and Benny looked between them like they were watching a highly enjoyable tennis match, while Sam and Dean seemed to be having some sort of internal conversation, which left Sam smug and Dean pink in the cheeks. Balthazar seemed to note the direction of his gaze and Castiel could have sworn a dash of concern fled across his features.  
_Cassy, are you really mated with Dean?_  
_Yes._ Castiel replied, and even though he knew Balthazar would be the last angel to judge him, whenever Dean was concerned, he felt a defensive wave rise up inside him.  
_Are you ok?_ Balthazar picked the strangest times to be serious, but right now it seemed they had a moment; Bobbicus had begun a pictorial recount of the two brothers’ childhood stories to Benny and Charlie while Sam and Dean laughed and denied the clumsiness of their youth with vehemence. _I’ve never heard of an angel taking it well._  
  
The statement struck Castiel, and the strangeness of his and Dean’s relationship came to him with more clarity. It could be quite possible that he and Dean were the first couple to actually enjoy mating and prolong its effects, although very few angels ever talked about their experiences in this field.  
_You and I both know I’ve never been normal, Balthazar. And for some reason, being tied to Dean like this is one of the most enjoyable things that I have experienced._ Castiel frowned at the other angel’s outburst of laughter in his head.  
_You are the only angel I know who’d ever come outright with something like that, Cassy, gosh._ Balthazar sipped some more wine with a smirk, but the voice in his head sobered a little. _But I’m glad you’re happy._  
“Hey Baltha-whatsit!” Bobbicus called over to the blue-silver winged angel. “You call this drinking?”  
“Do I hear the preposition of a contest, my plaid-clad hill billy?” Oh dear. Balthazar rose with catlike grace and conjured up a table set with glasses in the centre of the luxurious couches. Bobbicus took a seat between Sam and Charlie, while Benny perched on the arm, and Balthazar slid into the seat beside Castiel.  
“Oh, this I have to see.” Dean headed towards the seat on his other side but Castiel shifted over, so that he took up both spaces.  
  
Dean cocked an eyebrow as Bobbicus and Balthazar took a shot. Castiel didn’t know what it was – the light, the wine, the mood, but Dean just looked too gorgeous right now; young, strong and beautiful, and he wanted him.  
“Have it your way.” Dean smirked and went to sit on the arm of the couch, but Castiel snaked up an arm, caught his waist and pulled him down onto his lap.  
“I will.” Castiel murmured into his ear and caught the edge with his teeth as his cock swelled under Dean’s thigh; the younger angel had slid diagonally onto him, so as to have space for his wings. Dean’s temple pressed against his forehead as the tawny angel tried to keep his breath steady.  
“Hey, d’you two wanna get a room?” Bobbicus griped from the opposite couch. Oops, Castiel had almost forgotten they weren’t alone. “We’re tryin’ to get some serious drinkin’ done here.”  
“Mmm, I bet on Balthazar.” Castiel ran his hand down Dean’s thigh, the other one tight about the younger angel’s waist.  
“Oh really? I’m all in for Bobbicus.” Dean grinned down at him and shifted his thigh just enough to tell Castiel he could feel his erection. Castiel gritted his teeth against a gasp and the other angels chimed in with their bets as Balthazar and Bobbicus took another shot. Dean slid his wing up along the ridge of Castiel’s, and the older angel had to bite his cheeks to keep any unruly noises in check.  
_And what do I get if I win, Cas?_ Dean’s voice teased in his head as shocks of pleasure lanced through where their feathers touched.  
_What do you want?_ Castiel slid his fingers beneath Dean’s shirt and traced circles over his hipbone. Dean’s skin quivered, and Castiel could see the fabric on his crotch stretch tight.  
_How about this?_  
  
A sudden image flashed into Castiel’s head. He lay flat on his back, black wings spread across the floor with his hands chained high above his head. Dean knelt astride him as he fucked himself at a torturous pace on Castiel’s cock and massaged his wings into the older angel’s feathers.  
Castiel’s fingers dug a little firmer into Dean’s thigh, and his impatient cock pressed hot against his mate.  
_You on your back, Marshal._ Dean teased, and Castiel nuzzled his neck as his breath came too fast. He was definitely going to have to make some pathetic excuse to Balthazar soon, even if it was just for ten minutes to take his violent lust out on Dean.  
_And if I win?_ Castiel didn’t even wait for a response, but sent Dean what he wanted: the image of the younger angel bent over his creation desk at the Academy, belly flat against the surface. One of Castiel’s hands pinned Dean’s shoulders between his spread wings, while the other had the tail end of a leash curled about it. A leash which connected to the Enochian Binding Collar around the younger angel’s neck. Dean’s hands clawed up the edge of the desk as his mostly-clothed body rippled with the force of Castiel’s thrusts, but he couldn’t move, only try to choke down gasps as the older angel ravaged him.  
“Holy shit, you kinky sonofabitch.” Dean whispered. The younger angel licked his lips as he wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pressed his side hot against the older angel’s chest. _I’m not sure if I want Bobbicus to win now._  
  
Castiel’s lips sucked a gentle pressure on his neck, totally unaware that Sam was studying them like a biologist might study a pair of new mammals. _Whoever wins goes first, Dean._  
_I just love the way you think Cas._ Dean nuzzled down his cheek, and the temptation to kiss this sensual creature almost overwhelmed Castiel. But he knew if they started, they wouldn’t stop until they’d fucked each other’s Grace into mindless ecstasy, and the older angel was definitely sure that was something he didn’t want his best friend and Dean’s family to see; and besides they were all meant to be celebrating together. So he took a deep breath and held Dean’s warmth against him as fire shot through his essence. They could wait a little. They could enjoy the company of good friends and good drink, and he knew that fucking Dean would feel so much better if he’d been waiting for it, if he was gagging for it.  
Life was good, Castiel thought as he smiled at the opening note of Balthazar’s first French folksong and his Grace tingled with heat for Dean. Life was good, and he wouldn’t change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of The Academy of War! If you have any thoughts, comments or questions, I would love to hear them! There's a small chance (but I really don't want to false-hope anybody) that there might be a sequel with some unexpected elements, so maybe not the end for this universe quite yet c: Would you all be keen for that, even if it wasn't primarily a Cas/Dean ship? Anyone keen to see what a Cas/Dean lovechild might look like, I put a picture in the comments section of the previous chapter hehe. Thanks to all of you who have commented and given kudos, and thanks to all of you who have been with me from start to finish on this! Stay awesome guys n.n


	19. The Sequel Is Here

**The sequel has begun!**  
Check it out [here! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6997159/chapters/15940114) The focus is a little different to this one, but hopefully you will like it. It's going to build the world up more and revolve around some (maybe) unexpected characters, but we'll still see some Castiel and Dean too. Have fun all of you and stay awesome! c:


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